


Calendar Boys

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Time, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-20
Updated: 2006-03-20
Packaged: 2019-02-02 18:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12731625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Sam and Janet have a cunning plan to counter budget cuts at the SGC. Now all they need to do is convince the guys that they must suffer for their art!





	Calendar Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

"Let me get this straight, Carter," shouted Jack, "you want to help raise funds, HOW?"

Sam rolled her eyes at Janet, sighed dramatically and thought over the last few minutes; how could she simplify the explanation of the idea she'd had?

Wait a minute...was it actually her idea?

It had seemed a great plan to have a laugh at the boys' expense, as well as raising some much needed finance for the programme, after a girl's night in with Janet, a couple of bottles of wine, a bucket of ice cream and a chick flick. In the cold, sober light of day, in the briefing room at the SGC, with the incredulous faces of three men and one slightly bemused Jaffa before her, she reckoned she been stitched up. She turned and stared inquiringly at the Chief Medical Officer sitting demurely next to her, looking like butter would not melt.

'Yes' thought Sam savagely, 'Stitched up but good!'

"Well Sirs," - she had started the briefing confidently. "As you know the budget has been cut again by the powers that be and I believe that we need to find alternative means of making up the shortfall if we are to maintain the programme and continue as Earth's premier line of defence."

Sam had been only too grateful to Daniel for interrupting.

"The missions through the gate have been cut ba..."

"Yeah," interpolated Jack. "We hardly use the old gal anymore."

"And," Daniel had continued, ignoring Jack with the ease of long practice. "If the lights get any dimmer, we'll need Seeing Eye dogs to get around."

"Better order lots of poop scoops then, General"

General Hammond had sighed and frowned reprovingly at his second-in-command; who, he recognized, was becoming both giddy and goofy which did not bode well for the meeting.

"You are correct, Danieljackson, it is extremely ill-lit for a military compound," Teal'c had interjected.

"I have begged and pleaded, but the Pentagon is not letting us have another cent toward the budget, they are citing lack of tangible results." Hammond was weary of the penny pinching.

Daniel was pissed with it. "Which we can't get because we hardly go on missions anymore, it's a vicious circle!"

"I've never found the Stargate to be vicious at all Danieljackson; indeed it has saved our...butts on more than one occasion."

Daniel had frowned repressively at Jack, who was had been doing a really bad job of concealing his amusement.

"Ah, no Teal'c, the stargate is not a vicious...you know... Never mind."

"So, I presume you have an idea to raise funds Carter"

Sam had swallowed and unconsciously squared her shoulders. She was had been gaining no support whatsodamnever from her supposed friend sitting next to her.

"Yes Sir," she had replied simply. Sam had taken a deep breath and smiled winningly, "I think.... I think we should produce a nude calendar of SGC personnel."

The silence that had followed her pronouncement was pretty damning; Sam had seen her teammates sick, injured, mad, drunk, high and even dead, but never had she seen them as completely dumbstruck as they were now.

She rushed to explain herself.

"Well, Sirs, Janet and I rented a movie the other night. A true story, based on some ladies in England who wanted to raise money for a charity and decided to pose nearly nude. They raised millions of English pounds and I think we could do the same." Sam had been breathless by the time she had finished. 

"And what group of ladies was this Carter?" Predictably it had been the colonel who had found his voice first and was shouting the odds. "Swimsuit models and movie stars?" he added scathingly.

"No, Sir," replied Sam, aware that Janet was trembling with not very well suppressed chuckles in the seat next to her. Giving Janet an exasperated look she continued, "They were mature ladies from the Women's Institute."

"Yes" piped up Janet, entering the fray, "they hid their err...assets behind cakes and flowers and things."

"Are you proposing, Major, that we ask for volunteers from the female staff to pose for this calendar?" questioned a perplexed General Hammond.

The tremors now racking Janet's petite frame were quite alarming. Damn Cabernet Sauvignon and Ben and Jerry's Karamel Sutra - they had a lot to answer for. Sam wished she were anywhere but at this table. How on earth did she find herself in these situations?

Antarctica was looking good to her at this point!

"Well, Sir...you see...um...err Janet and I did some preliminary research.... and...um...."

"Spit it out, Carter."

"Well, it seems the female calendars have been done to death...so a male calendar would be the way to go."

Unfortunately Daniel was taking a mouthful of coffee when Sam made her announcement; it exited his mouth quite forcefully...all over an enraged Colonel.

Jack turned to the gawping civilian. "Are you getting deaf?" he enunciated coldly, "I said spit it out Carter, not spit it out Daniel!"

Dabbing ineffectually at his now coffee stained green BDU's, an irate Jack turned to Sam. "Carter are you seriously proposing we ask for volunteers among the men on base, because I'm telling ya nobody loves the programme that much."

"Yes, Janet..." A small but vicious elbow dug into Sam's ribs, "oof ...err ...and I thought of that already Sir, and we think it best if the men proposed be handpicked and ordered to do it."

General Hammond had sat in on some bizarre briefing meetings while in command of the SGC, mostly it had to be said, concerning his premier team, but this one...He shook his head ruefully.

"Major Carter, you and Doctor Fraiser seem to have thought this out thoroughly. Who exactly do you have in mind for this proposed calendar?"

Sam blushed and swallowed heavily; she could not look her teammates in the eyes, but then neither could she look at Hammond.

Sod Antarctica, Netu was looking good to her right now! She took a deep breath - better to get it over with quickly...

"TheColonelDanielTeal'cSilerJonasMajorDaviesWaltertheChevronguyMasterBratacThorChakamyDadand err yourself, General Sir." She reeled out the names in one long jumbled sentence. Sam sat like a stone, awaiting the inevitable. She eventually sneaked a peak at the stupefied expressions on the faces before her. 

Yep! Pretty much the reaction she had expected.

Janet's medical professionalism was on full alert; Daniel was borderline hyperventilating. The Colonel was turning an alarming shade of purple that suggested his blood pressure was rocketing faster than the Prometheus in hyper-drive and General Hammond was doing a very passable impression of Munch's, The Scream. However, after determining they were not in immediate need of medical treatment, she allowed her impish side to surface with a little giggle.

Never had she seen such horror filled expressions, she heard a distressed whimper...was it? She whipped her head round; yes it was...It was Daniel. The last time she had heard whining like that, was when she had locked Cassie's ugly mutt outside for peeing on the kitchen floor. 

It was worth every cent of the hundred bucks she had bet Sam to actually raise this in a briefing. Janet decided to sneak a look at Teal'c, oh...oh dear...was it hot in here? Surprise was a very sexy look on Teal'c, she decided. Mmm very sexy indeed, especially with his mouth open and his eyebrows so high his gold emblem was lost in the folds of his forehead.

"For crying out loud, Carter! Are you totally nuts? For God's sake, Daniel stop wheezing and find yourself a paper bag. You want me to pose nude in a calendar for public consumption? I've got to tell ya, the only enjoyment any woman will get from looking at my body is playing dot to dot with the scars!"

"I believe, O'Neill, that photographers can employ a technique called airbrushing to camouflage unsightly blemishes." 

"In Jack's case it would be more airbulldozering than airbrushing, I mean have you seen that big scar on his...um...never mind." Daniel blushed under Jack's glare and refused to elaborate.

"You're not so perfect yourself, Appendectomy boy," retorted Jack. "Hands up, who thinks this is a totally insane idea?"

"You're not seriously suggesting that we ask Chaka and Thor to participate, are you Sam? I mean they're...well...aliens," piped up Daniel.

"Not to mention Thor is hardly equipped to let it all hang out. I mean surely you've had enough boyfriends, Carter, to realize his lunchbox is an apple, orange and banana short?...His meat and two veg. are nouvelle cuisine." Jack began to warm to the theme, "he's bitless...and bobless too! His...."

General Hammond sensed that Jack was just getting started. "Colonel O'Neill, we err... unfortunately get the picture."

Sam had waited a long time for this, "Well, Sir," she said demurely, "as you know the Asgard are an advanced and superior species and like women their reproductive organs are on the inside." Sam sat back in her chair with a smirk that radiated smugness.

Jack opened his mouth but no words came out. For once he had nothing to say. Sam felt that her subsequent demotion and posting to Greenland was well and truly worth it. It was a red-letter day when the colonel did not have the last word in any argument.

Janet was peeing herself, almost literally. She wanted to jump up and yell, "You go, girl," at the top of her lungs. She wanted to hi-five Sam and slip the bird to the colonel, but her military training kicked in and she just settled for matching Sam's shit eating grin. Never had she seen the colonel so completely unsettled.

Who on earth could she get to supply her with bootleg security camera footage? Surely it was worth a no suppositories order on a medical file? Janet sometimes felt those Goa'uld bitches had nothing on her. No one in the universe could possibly feel more powerful than she did, when briskly snapping on a pair of latex gloves and telling a patient to get on all fours.

Sam had gone from abject terror to enjoying herself hugely. "I'm aware that Chaka and Thor are aliens, as are Master Bratac, Teal'c and technically I suppose, my dad. Also, that Thor has no genitalia Sir, but I believe it would be advantageous to include them. The public would believe them to be spoofs and we would have an added novelty value that would get the calendar buying public interested. I mean, think about it, Chaka and Thor look just like any aliens from a cheap sixties sci-fi series. Who on earth will believe they are real?"

"Chaka's penis is huge, nobody will believe for a minute it's real," Daniel added to no one in particular, mouth definitely not engaging brain. Suddenly realizing that everyone was looking at him, he reviewed what he had just said. He flushed, deeply. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sounds emerged.

'Great' he thought, 'for a so called genius, you are fucking stupid, Jackson.'

He knew he was about to face the Jack O'Neill version of the Spanish Inquisition; a whip would be far less painful than a tongue lashing from the Colonel. Daniel winced and tried his fluttering eyelashes thing; after all it had worked on stinky monsters all over the universe.

Unfortunately, stinky monsters had nothing on a totally enraged Jack O'Neill.

"What did you just say?" he bellowed. "Exactly when and how did you become intimately acquainted with Chaka's wedding tackle, Dannyboy?"

"Unas don't have wedding tackle, Jack, because they don't have marriage ceremonies. In fact they don't even mate...."

"Daniel!"

"Jack?"

"Daniel!"

"Jack?"

"I do not want to know about the mating habits of a group of big scaly slimeballs. What I do want to know is how you know the size of Chaka's sausage? And it better not have anything to do with being up close and personal."

Daniel jumped to his feet.

"God! Jack! What are you implying? That's...it's sick. I know the size of your...your tackle...that doesn't mean ...Okay bad example. Look, I don't know about you, but when an Unas has kidnapped you and he's taking you home for dinner, but not you're not the guest but the main course, you kinda don't put up much of a fuss when he wants to compare the size of his cock to a puny human one."

"Well, I don't recall you mentioning it in your report or telling me for that matter!"

"There was nothing to tell."

"Don't ask, don't tell, huh?"

"Really, Jack, you are a complete ass." Daniel noticed Sam, Janet and Teal'c, not to mention General Hammond were looking at them extremely speculatively. "Can we change this topic of conversation please?"

"Okay, on the understanding that I, as your team leader will want answers to certain questions later."

Daniel sat down shakily; this was the most surreal conversation he'd had since Michael had given him those dodgy chocolate brownies back in 1969.

General Hammond decided it was time to restore a vestige of order to the meeting. 

"Major Carter, have you any proposed financial goals for this calendar?"

"Yes, Sir," replied Sam eagerly. "We can produce it at little cost; the main expenses will be printing, distribution and advertising the calendar. I propose an initial run of about 200,000 copies. If they retail at $20, then that would raise $4 million, less costs."

"Four million dollars!" screeched Jack and Daniel together.

At the guys' incredulous looks, Sam smiled. "I have every expectation of needing more than one run to supply demand."

"Wow! That would sure settle the lights bill, General." Jack was impressed.

"But who will take these photographic images?" enquired Teal'c.

"It will obviously be someone who has the necessary security clearance, maybe someone from the programme itself," Hammond mused.

"Ah...wait, wait...We're not actually going to do this are we?" asked a visibly alarmed Daniel. "I did not sign up to be ogled by the masses, call me a wuss, but being photographed nearly nude is not my idea of a good time. General, please tell me we are not considering this as a viable option." 

"If you keep on being this whiny, Daniel, we'll give you a collar and a worming tablet and call you Fido."

Daniel scowled at the hapless Colonel." I'm sure we've had a conversation before about inappropriate sarcasm, Jack. Anyway, I know the President will agree with me and never allow it!"

"Can you think of another way to raise finance, Dr Jackson? We have all agreed to salary freezes, but that alone does not make up the shortfall. I do not believe the President will object as long as security is not compromised. He encourages private enterprise and I think this plan may appeal to him."

Daniel shook his head slowly, he could not think of a single thing and he'd tried - hard, but more importantly, he did not wish the Stargate programme to have to take shortcuts just because he did not want to take his kit off.

"Who is going to want to look at a nearly nude, be-speckled archaeologist anyway? I mean I'm not exactly...." Daniel tailed off as he noticed Sam and Janet shaking their heads and smiling at him fondly.

"Sure, we will have to do a bit of a makeover on you," said Sam twinkling.

Janet had a gleam in her eye. "After we have finished with you, you'll pass muster. Besides you won't need your glasses, just something to preserve your considerable modesty."

Daniel almost choked and looked pleadingly in Janet's direction, she was the only one who knew...oh dear, this was going to be embarrassing.

Janet relented and twinkled back at the befuddled civilian.

"I know what you mean, Dr Jackson. I'm not in the first flush of youth, nor am I as handsome or athletic as I once was. I doubt any ladies will want me gracing their walls."

"No, General!" Interjected Sam hotly. "We need to broaden the appeal of the calendar to cover all spectrums of the public. You, the Colonel, my father and Master Bratac will appeal to the more mature ladies."

Jack was spitting outrage.

"Carter! I'll have you know I'm in my prime. Why just the other day a young lady was checking me out."

"Yes, it's true, Sam," corroborated Daniel, eyes fluttering in mischief. "A girl scout wanted to know if he needed help crossing the road."

Three of the people around the table dissolved into giggles, Hammond was smiling benignly and even Teal'c's lips were upwardly mobile.

"Anyway, what about Teal'c? He's waaay older than I am."

"I am, O'Neill, but I am not in need of a formula to darken my follicles."

Sam sensed the Colonel was about to go off on one of his tangents.

"I mean Sir, that you will appeal to females of all ages." Sam found it hard to keep a straight face, especially when Janet whispered, "good save" into her ear.

Daniel turned to Jack to make a serious appeal to him. As his team leader, he felt it only right that Jack should get him out of this. Jack had taken Sam's last words very much to heart and had a silly smirk on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. He obviously was having a very enjoyable, ego-boosting daydream, because he was visibly preening himself and was sucking in his stomach too!

"Um, Jack, you can't be serious?"

"Danny, Danny, is it fair of me to deny the body of a god to the women of the world?"

"Which god would that be, O' Neill?" asked a palpably amused Teal'c. "Apophis...as he his is now?

"Ha Ha.... very funny T, don't give up your day job."

"No Teal'c!" replied Daniel shocked. "Jack's body is like that of the great Rameses ll, I've seen it..."

Jack threw a very superior look at Teal'c. Unfortunately for him Daniel had not finished.

"...all shriveled and mummified." Daniel allowed himself to smile guilelessly at a seething Jack.

"Laugh it up! Just because I'm packing the kind of big, honkin' space gun that will need an extra wide focus and an ion cannon to hide behind, there's no need to suffer from heavy artillery envy!"

A snigger came from the general direction of Janet and in response to Jack's glare she sat up and assumed a completely innocent expression totally at odds with the devilment in her eyes.

"Let's hope your gun is not loaded with blanks or fires prematurely then, shall we, Sir? That could cause your offensive to fail and your position to be breached and fall into enemy hands."

Jack opened his mouth to annihilate Janet, but she said sweetly. "I believe your medical is scheduled for next week, Colonel. Monday is it? How would you feel about it becoming an interactive teaching experience for the entire base?"

Jack closed his mouth, mumbled something incoherent and sat down meekly.

Sam addressed the meeting. "So we're actually going to do this?"

The General replied. "Subject to Presidential approval and obviously assuring security parameters are met, I think we can give this calendar the go. Getting all your models to participate is another matter, this may be a military base, but I cannot order staff to co-operate. Write up a proposal, Major and I'll put it through the proper channels."

Hammond turned to Daniel. "Dr Jackson, if you would contact Chaka and Thor and ascertain their willingness to assist us in this endeavour. Teal'c, if you could do the same with Master Bratac and Jonas." He waited as Teal'c bowed his head in assent. "I'll organize Major Davis and that leaves Siler and Harriman to you Colonel. Major! I'll leave you to tackle your father," he finished dryly. "Any further questions?" 

"Well, Sir, not to put a dampener on things..." began Daniel giving Hammond his best pleading, blue-eyed little orphan lost expression.

"A dampener!" hooted Jack. "You're more like a torrential downpour."

"But," Daniel ignored Jack once again. "Have you any idea how hard it will be to phrase, "we would like you to pose nude in a Tauri calendar," to an alpha Unas?"

"Just pull out your cock first, Daniel. I'm sure he'll get the message," Jack said snidely.

"Translate this, Jack!" retorted Daniel, stormily. "Fuk'kov Jak'aaaaasssss!"

"Daniel!"

"Dr Jackson!"

"Danieljackson"

"Daniel!"

Janet thought poor Daniel was looking like he was going to lose it, big time. And really she needed to go and have hysterics somewhere soon, before she disgraced herself in the briefing room. Never in a million years had she dreamed that Hammond and SG-1 would actually go for this semi-indecent proposal.

"Sir, I really must go and check on my patients."

"Yes, we will re-convene this another time."

"I can hardly wait," thought Janet.

Two Months Later

To Daniel's bewilderment, not only did the calendar get the Presidential seal of approval, but everyone had agreed to participate albeit with some arm twisting from Jack for Siler and Harriman. Even Thor and Chaka were inappropriately enthusiastic. Daniel was disgruntled; it was all everyone was talking about.

After SG-1's last mission he had spent some time in the infirmary, recovering from some bug he'd picked up. He'd found it hard to sleep and had gone wandering in the night, and had overheard a couple of the nurses complaining about being unable to take part in the latest betting pool that Ferretti had started, because of their 'alleged inside information.'

"Most of the money is on Teal'c and the Unas. Imagine if we were allowed to bet, we would rake it in."

"Yeah, a marine offered to take me out the other day, but I knew he was only after one thing.... to see who has the biggest Beastus Maximus. Our knowledge must be worth something."

"It sure is, honey. Has anyone put money on Thor yet, do you know?"

"No-one I know! It should be worth one dollar of someone's money though at odds of 1000 - 1."

"Yeah, you never know with these advanced races though, he could just transport one on or something."

"Ewwwww imagine that! Snuggling up to a small grey guy with a huge head and no dick, when suddenly something the size of a salami rears into view. It's enough to give me the heebie-jeebies."

"But it would give new meaning to the phrase 'Beam it up, Scotty.' Imagine if there was a malfunction or something, it could end up on backwards."

"Yuck, that would be some serious self loving."

"Think of the amazing jump into hyperspace or the increased warp factor! Really though, I would love to know the Asgard's secret for hair removal; I bet they don't use crappy, painful wax!"

Both nurses had then dissolved into hysterical giggles.

Daniel was feeling ill. He did not realise nurses had such graphic imaginations. He had to get out of this calendar.

* * *

The photographer had been carefully chosen; Technical Major Lewis Sharpe, based at the Pentagon. The brief was that he could film anywhere at Cheyenne Mountain except the embarkation room itself.

The photographs were scheduled to take two days to complete and all the participants were required to have some sort of prop. Sam and Janet were going to help with the make-up and poses of the so-called models.

Jack had spent every spare minute in the gym during the past couple of months. Teal'c had done nothing differently apart from some extra polishing of his gold emblem. Jonas had asked for some extra whitening toothpaste to be sent through the gate so he could make sure his biggest assets were looking their best and Chaka had asked for some emery boards. Master Bratac wanted a nipple ring and Thor was seriously thinking of having a tattoo of a fluffy kitten on his thigh.

Only Daniel had not made any preparations, in fact he was doing his best to not think about it at all.

On the appointed day, a quick informal meeting was scheduled to introduce Major Sharpe and to work on poses etc. The first day was to be most of the human models and the next day most of the off-worlders were to be photographed.

Jack, Teal'c, Hammond, Siler, Harriman and Paul Davis were in the briefing room along with a couple of very perky female Majors.

Siler and Harriman both looked nervous and ill at ease. Hammond just looked resigned.

Jack addressed an excited and very cheerful Paul Davis, who was browsing a book entitled, 'How to bluff your way in Archaeology'.

"How did they twist your arm to get you to do this, Major?"

"Oh, no arm twisting necessary, Sir. I was very happy to help in anyway possible. My mother always thought I should have been a model, so this may be my only chance!"

Sam asked curiously. "You don't mind taking most of your clothes off to be ogled by women?"

"Just women?" Paul was a tad put out. "I've been told on many occasions that I have a unbelievably gorgeous body and here's my chance to let the world see it." 

Ignoring the Colonel's impolite incredulity, he continued, " I'm only disappointed that I'm not going to be totally naked, I wouldn't have minded that. I've brought some of my weekend gear with me for the shoot; I think it may be appropriate. I've told all my friends and they can't wait to buy it. I'm hoping this may lead to a whole new career for me. Where is Dr Jackson by the way? I've been doing some research and I'd love to see his scrolls."

Under the chatter of Sam's conversation with the Major, Janet whispered to Jack. "Major Davis seems to be up for it, Sir." 

Jack was not impressed. "Yes he certainly does," he replied sourly.

Just then, a nervous Major Sharpe came in and after being introduced to everyone present, he pointed out he'd only ever photographed aircraft and pilots and had never attempted a calendar. He also clarified a few photographic points and asked who was to be the first to pose.

General Hammond volunteered. He wanted it out of the way so he could concentrate on the military base he was supposedly running.

"Right then, Sir. Have you any thoughts on your pose?" 

George had not!

Janet was straight faced! "How about in your office, General, reclining on your desk with the presidential red phone as your errrr...hmmm...cover."

"Something tells me, Major, you have been quite thorough in your research. How was I persuaded to enter into this crazy enterprise?"

"It is for the good of the programme, Sir," replied a jovial Jack, insincerity leaking from every pore.

Hammond favoured Jack with his patented, 'How on Earth did you ever become a Colonel and my second-in command?' look, which threatened to triple the amount of paperwork currently collecting dust on Jack's desk.

Jack just grinned back unrepentantly.

"We need someone to be wear a Santa hat and beard as Mr. December. Would you care to do that, Sir?" intervened Major Sharpe hastily.

"Wow, Sir. Think of how delighted Tessa and Kayla will be to see their Grandpa George err... undressed as Santa." Sometimes Jack did not know when to stop.

George Hammond had the appearance of Mount St. Helens...just as it was about to blow! The other occupants of the room swore steam came out of his ears! 

"That's it, I'm not doing this!" he shouted, completely irate. "I'm about to engineer the largest international crisis since Battleship Earth was released.

Sam and Janet threw Jack looks of utter reproach, as they rushed to soothe the General's lacerated feelings.

"I suggest, O'Neill, that you endeavour to locate Danieljackson." interjected Teal'c, in a credible attempt to remove the source of the agitation, i.e. Jack, from the briefing room.

"Um...Yes, going now." 

Major Lewis was busy compiling a list of people who wanted to be rid of him. Why else had he been given this assignment? He had yet to take his first photo and one model was having a nervous breakdown and another was on the verge of a court martial

Something else scared him even more; these people were in charge of Earth's first line of defence. How would he ever sleep at night again?

Sam rushed to fill the breach. "I suggest, Major, you set up your equipment in the General's office, while he prepares himself."

Sharpe rushed to comply and thirty minutes later a nervous looking General Hammond appeared wearing nothing but a white wrap and ...black socks!

The photographer realised he needed the General to relax. "If you just make yourself comfortable, Sir. Leave the wrap on for now and I'll take some practice shots and we'll build up to the more um...naked photos later." 

General Hammond seated himself behind his desk and Sharpe began taking practice shots. After taking about a dozen he stopped abruptly.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm afraid there is quite a bit of...glare, reflecting from your...head, Sir.

George settled for glaring at the nervous cameraman.

Janet stepped in and applied some foundation and face powder to the General's head, biting her lip as she did so. She'd done some bizarre things as CMO of the Stargate programme, but making up Hammond's bald patch had to take the biscuit!

After he was made up to everyone's satisfaction, George bit the bullet. He laid the photos of his wife, daughter and grandchildren face down. He put on the Santa hat and beard. He ordered Sam from his office, which she reluctantly obeyed with a distinctly thwarted look and he removed his wrap....and his socks and draped himself across his desk, which creaked alarmingly.

"My, Sir, I'd forgotten what an impressive set of epaulettes you had," said the mischievous Janet naughtily, as she assisted Hammond with make-up to his stomach, chest and legs. Sharpe managed to turn his guffaw of laughter into a series of unconvincing coughs that fooled no one.

"General, could you...cough....lay on your...cough...side, with your head on one of your...cough...hands. Bend one of your knees...cough, cough...please."

"Nasty cough you have there, Major," stated the General. "If it persists, we may have to send you to the fresher climes of say - Greenland."

Hammond's words worked like magic on Sharpe's chokes, which stopped immediately.

Janet handed the presidential phone to Hammond who placed it over his crotch. Janet was not sure which seemed more scarlet, the phone or the General's face!

Sharpe began taking the photos for real. He tried to get George to change his pose, but he could only move slightly, because of his precarious position on the desk. Suddenly, the sound of the camera clicking was interrupted by another, more voluble noise...The phone was ringing!

"I don't believvvvve it!" yelled the General. "Of all the times."

"Hello? Yes, Mr. President, I am rather tied up at the moment. No, nothing is left hanging. Yes, Sir, I'll make sure the balls are lobbed back into Kinsey's court. Yes, I'll also make sure there is a carrot to dangle for the representatives of P4X 676. No, the little General is not too cold, Sir and I'll definitely make sure the phone is disinfected before calling you again. Mr. President, have you been in contact with Colonel O'Neill or Major Ferretti by any chance? You have! That explains a great deal. Yes. Thank-you, Sir. Good-bye to you too, Sir."

"I'm going to kill him; there isn't a court in the land that would convict me. Its justifiable homicide! Dr Fraiser! Jannneettttt!"

"Y...y...yes S...sir," stuttered Janet, mopping her streaming eyes and popping up from her not so safe hiding place under the desk. "D...did you want me?" 

"Yes, I do! I want you to schedule an extremely thorough medical for Major Ferretti, as soon as possible! Do I make myself clear?"

"P..perfectly...G...G...General Hammond."

It was a rather grumpy, almost naked Santa, clutching a red phone and draped over a desk like a sack of potatoes, that now finished the first photo session.

Leaving Hammond to get dressed and recover from the ordeal with several Hershey Bars, the trio went in search of their next victim cum model.

Major Sharpe breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the General's office. He reckoned he'd been lucky to escape without demotion and a posting to somewhere in a galaxy far, far away. Mr. December was completed. Who the hell was next?

* * *

"Right Sergeant...um ...Siler is it?" Sharpe motioned the man forward. This would be a test for his photographic skills; the guy looked like he's had a fight with a tank ...and lost. Siler had two black eyes and tape across what looked like a broken nose.

"What on Earth happened to you, Sergeant?" he asked in concern.

"Dr. Jackson happened." 

Sharpe was shocked. "He hit you?" he asked in alarm.

"No, nothing like that," Siler reassured the photographer. "It's just when he's possessed by an alien life-form, I always seem to get in his way, I'm not sure why."

"Have you ever noticed, Sam," whispered Janet. "How alike Siler and the Colonel are?"

"Siler and the Colonel," hooted Sam, "I don't think so."

"Hmm. Just a flight of fancy I had, not important."

Sharpe was continuing his conversation with the technician.

"Have you anywhere in mind to pose, Sergeant?"

Siler was being towed along by Janet and Sam, who was feeling a little huffy at being left out of the General's photo shoot. The Sergeant was tongue-tied with anxiety and felt the fluttering of butterflies in his tummy, which had nothing to do with the beautiful Major Carter seeing him in an advanced state of undress.

"I have an idea," announced Sam brightly, blushing slightly. "What about posing on my motorbike? Imagine sitting on that leather with all that power nestled between your thighs." Sam widened her eyes guilelessly at the transfixed Siler. "After all it's what men fantasise about," she continued blithely. 

Siler could only nod helplessly.

"I think it could be what Major Carter fantasises about too," whispered Janet wickedly, standing on tiptoe in her stilettos to reach her friend's ear.

Both the female Majors grabbed an arm of the reluctant Sergeant and towed him ruthlessly to the small storage room cum bike workshop. Sharpe began setting up his equipment. He had decided to do whatever Major Carter and Doctor Fraiser suggested and not offer any opinions of his own. He wanted this to be over ASAP.

Siler stood awkwardly, hovering uncertainly by the door. He needed to remove his clothes but he was not sure he could bring himself to do so before the lovely Major Carter, - bits of him were feeling very shy.

"Ummm," he murmured diffidently.

That's all it took. In perfect synchronisation the two females descended and ruthlessly stripped him. Siler was unable to utter a word of protest at the high-handed treatment, as his body was subjected to a minute inspection by critical eyes.

Siler thought he detected a flash of disappointment cross Major Carter's expressive face.

'Nah,' he thought to himself. 'I'm just being paranoid.'

Sam and Janet were giggling quietly together.

"Well I must say," chortled Sam, "hardly meat and two veg, more a baby carrot and two petit pois!"

"Major Carter, I'm surprised by your conduct. It is unprofessional of you to discuss a subordinate's genitalia." Her dancing eyes belied Janet's stern face and tone.

"Ooooh Janet Fraiser! Just because you've seen them all before. Please tell me who has the biggest lunchbox, pleeeeease. I'll split any winnings with you."

"No, Sam, you know I can't. It goes against the Hippocratic oath, the very foundation of everything I believe in. All patient medical histories are confidential. And more importantly, none of the infirmary staff are allowed to bet on the wager."

"Well, if you're not allowed to tell, how is Lou going to find out who has the biggest one?"

Janet smiled secretively. "He has ways and means."

As Janet applied make-up to strategic areas of Siler's face and body, Sam lovingly caressed the gleaming metal of her bike as she polished it to a bright shine. When Dr Fraiser's exacting standards were met, Siler moved to sit astride the powerful bike.

"Wait," cried Sam in alarm. She hurriedly found a piece of cloth and draped it over the seat. "Umm you can't be too careful with bodily secretions on leather, it can pucker dreadfully."

"It's a nice bike, Sam." Janet was unimpressed by big engines. "I hardly think the Sergeant will ejaculate all over it, though."

Sam looked at the doctor. "Sweat, I meant sweat Janet."

Siler was afraid to even look at the bike as he inched his way to it, reluctantly. Grasping one of the handles he swung his leg over.

"Ooooh I can tell you've done that before," said Janet admiringly. She stood back, eyeing the blushing Siler.

"Mmmmmm it still needs something, " she mused. "SAM!"

Sam jumped. "What?"

"Where's that wig? The one you got after the alternate bitch was here?"

"O...oh it's in my lab somewhere," Sam strove for a casual tone at the same time avoiding Janet's knowing eyes.

"Just because the Colonel kissed her. I could have told you it wouldn't work"

"But Janet, in all the other realities where I have long hair, the Colonel and I are together."

"Yes and he's always dead or about to die. Also, have you noticed how Daniel is not in those realities either?"

Sam was bewildered, "Yessssss... but was has that got to do with anything?"

"Nothing," replied Janet innocently, "just an observation. Go and get the wig, I'm just gonna get a couple of things too."

Siler waited with patient resignation on the bike for the two Majors to return, only slightly worried about what fate had in store for him. Sharpe futzed unnecessarily with the camera, trying not to display any fellow feeling for the man on the bike. In this combat situation it was definitely every man for himself!

Janet was back first with a little box. Siler knew a good soldier did not let his trepidation show when facing the enemy, but he could not help the sweat beading on his brow.

"I knew this stuff would come in useful," she remarked chattily as she grabbed Siler's wrists and attached leather wristbands to each one. She climbed up on the bike and put something around his neck...tight, which made it impossible to look down.

Siler uttered a strangled protest, that from the ease of long practice with patients, she ignored. Next the Sergeant could feel Doctor Fraiser looking at his chest, and then suddenly her small fingers were pinching his nipples... hard. 

"OW!" he cried. 

"Don't be a baby. One must suffer for one's art."

Suffer Siler did, as Janet attached something to one of his elongated nipples.

"YEOWW! NO! IT HURTS! TAKE IT OFF!" Sharpe could only wince in sympathy as Janet ignored Siler and repeated the process with the other nipple.

"WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?" Sam had heard the screaming a corridor away.

"Oh good," replied Janet calmly, not answering, "give me the wig."

Cautiously Sam handed the wig to Janet, who was shielding Siler, she positioned it on his head and tied something round and when satisfied she stood back so Sam could see the results of her ministrations.

Siler was wearing the blonde wig with a leather headband tied round. He had a spiked dog collar around his throat and a silver chain was suspended from his nipples by clamps, added to this was the leather at his wrists and he looked every inch a maverick biker, albeit one who was in some discomfort.

"Janet, you are a genius. Where on earth did you get this stuff?"

"Oh, you know, it's just stuff patients leave around the infirmary. SERGEANT! Wriggling like that will not help, when the session is over I'll find some nice, soothing ointment for them."

Siler muttered something about not letting Doctor Fraiser get within ten yards of his nipples again. Janet pretended not to hear, but Sam was all dewy-eyed sympathy, "I'll apply it Sergeant, I have basic first aid training."

Siler perked up visibly while Janet found a table fan and positioned it so that it looked like wind was blowing through Siler's hair...wig. Sharpe began to rapidly take pictures of the rejuvenated model. It was strange what the promise of a little application of salve could do to the psyche.

* * *

Next up was Paul Davis, who had ideas of his own. "I thought perhaps in the commissary."

"But, Major, it will be quite busy at the moment, with the lunchtime crowd."

"Oh, I don't mind," he stated blithely, "I quite like the thought of all those people staring. But, I would like some moral support, maybe Dr Jackson would not mind holding my hand...um, metaphorically of course."

Janet, Sam and Sharpe exchanged slightly appalled looks.

"Um, have you thought what you'd like to use as a prop?" squeaked Sam.

"What about a tall glass of Blue Jell-O?" suggested Paul. "Cool and colourful, a bit like me."

"What he means is, he's soft and fruity," whispered Janet.

Sam was appalled. "I'm never eating blue Jell-O again." 

As they approached the commissary, Paul went to the nearest rest room to change. Sam, Janet and Sharpe were chatting at the coffee machine when suddenly they caught sight of Paul hovering in the doorway. As one, all three of their jaws dropped open so wide, you could have driven a FRED through.

Major Davis was wearing nothing but a pair of extremely tight, black leather pants, but someone had forgotten to put the crotch and ass parts in.

The stunned silence in the commissary was broken by several people shouting "EWWWWW!" and the unmistakable sounds of retching. Chairs were scraped back violently and trays of food dumped unceremoniously. The exodus of bodies from the canteen was so fast that Sam thought a particle transporter beam had been fitted.

"Wow!" laughed Janet. "The last time the commissary cleared that fast, was that day we had that traditional English food menu. Remember? Toad in the Hole, Tripe and Semolina were that day's - specials."

"We'll have to forget the blue Jell-O, there isn't any," said a relieved Sam.

"What about at the sink, wearing a small frilly apron and wearing a pair of rubber gloves. Have it as a back view with Paul twisting round to face the camera," mused Janet.

"Ooooh yes" agreed Major Davis. "I like the sound of that!"

"They traipsed to the back of the service counter into the kitchen area. The formidable, Irish, Sergeant Molly was in charge. Her nickname in the mountain was Sherman. She made Teal'c look dainty.

Molly took one look at Paul Davis and her scandalised brogue boomed out. "You can't come in my clean kitchen with those hanging out, it's unhygienic!"

"No, you're quite right," placated Janet. "Could we just take a couple of photographs and then we'll be out of your way?"

Molly sniffed disparagingly. "I suppose so, as long as whatever he touches with any of his bits gets a good disinfecting after you've finished."

Major Davis was quite insulted, "I'll have you know I showered this morning, Sergeant." 

"I don't care if you swam here in a river of antiseptic, SIR! Anything you touch, you clean!" Giving them all a hard stare, she stomped off across her domain. 

"We should have her on the front line, facing the Goa'uld," said Sam admiringly.

"Yes, her cooking alone would be an adversary unlike anything they have ever encountered," replied Janet laughing.

"Is Dr. Jackson coming?" asked Paul hopefully.

"Not anywhere near you," murmured Janet.

"JANET!" admonished Sam, looking stern for about half a minute then she caved with an unmajorly giggle.

"I'm afraid Daniel cannot be located at this precise moment, can we get someone else to...ummm...hold your hand?"

Major Davis was disappointed. "No," he sighed heavily.

The lights were set up, and make-up applied, the frilly apron and yellow rubber gloves donned and then Paul began posturing in a series of poses that would have not been out of place in a porn magazine.

Sam, Janet and Sharpe were all feeling a little queasy by the time the photo-shoot ended. 

"I think Major Davies should be Mr. May," chortled Sam naughtily.

"Make that Mr. May Not," retorted Janet.

* * *

Walter Harriman's small frame was visibly trembling; he'd given no thought to a pose. 

"Ummm," mused Sam. "Maybe wearing a bow tie, clutching a clipboard?"

"Oh, that will look adorable," gushed Janet, trying to reassure Walter but unwittingly cranking his panic levels up to sheer terror.

"Seated?" continued Sam,

"Yes! In front of one of the big computer's with the colourful flashing lights, that will be interesting."

"Are you okay with that Walter?"

"Y...Y...yes, thank-you Ma'am, I mean Ma'ams."

"Okay then," replied Janet briskly. "You put on your robe and dickie and come out when you feel comfortable."

Walter's expression suggested that it would be 2010 before anyone saw him again as he dragged himself away with the kind of demeanour that one usually saw in films about the French revolution as aristocrats were queuing at the guillotine!

All the equipment was set up and the chair polished by the time Walter sidled back into the room, doing his best to look invisible.

"We'll turn our backs if you like, Walter" said Sam, kindly holding out the clipboard.

"Until you are ready anyway," interjected Janet hastily, frowning at Sam.

Major Sharpe was making soft choking noises as Sam and Janet like perfect gentlem...women, turned their backs.

"Umm...I'm...um ready," came a soft, nervous voice.

The two female Majors turned and joined the male Major in an identical expression of utter shock. Janet thought to herself ruefully that if their jaws kept dropping like this for the next day and a half, she was going to have to self prescribe some anti-inflammatory medication.

She found her voice first. "S....S...Sergeant," she spluttered. "What on earth has happened to you? Is this some sort of medical complaint?"

Harriman's body from the neck down was the deepest, fiery red. His face and hands were still their original pasty colour.

"No, Dr Fraiser," replied the abashed technician, whose face was betraying his agitation and blushing to match the rest of his body.

"Some of the guys said I was too pale to appear in the calendar and that I needed a tan. I hired a sun bed. I did not realize that I had to build up incrementally and it was so relaxing. I fell asleep."

Sam and Sharpe were still frozen in shock. Janet remembered she was a medical professional,

"It looks painful, have you had any treatment?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I have an Aloe Vera treatment which is helping."

Janet personally felt there was not enough Aloe Vera in the world to help tame that scarlet skin!

Sharpe found his voice. "What on earth are we going to do?"

"He looks more alien than Thor or Chaka!" Sam was worried. Maybe this calendar was doomed.

Janet was thinking furiously as Harriman stood sheepishly before them.

"We could cover him in camouflage paint? I mean everything."

"Yes! Janet you are a genius," shouted an elated Sam, going to the telephone and requesting tins of camouflage paint to be delivered ASAP to the briefing room. She also asked for every potted plant in the mountain to be brought too, toot pretty damn sweet. 

When all the items had been dropped off, Sharpe set the plants out to make as realistic a jungle scene as he could with a wilted Palm, two conifers and a half dozen plants of an indeterminate nature that Dr Lee was doing his best to try and identify. Sharpe had instantly thought Triffids.

Meanwhile, Sam and Janet were trying to stay straight faced as they began to camouflage poor Walter's genitalia.

"Well, this is something I've never done before," observed Janet chattily, merrily finger painting Harriman's quivering body with stripes of black and assorted greens.

"It's not something I've covered either," agreed Sam. "Usually, I'm not trying to disguise them if you know what I mean."

Janet, being a doctor, did know what Sam meant!

Walter was doing his best to look like his body did not belong to him as he was fondled and stroked by two senior officers of the opposite gender. One wrong move or even twitch could mean a demotion so rapid that he would be mopping toilets in some godforsaken base before he could say, "Chevron One Engaged."

Finally, just as Walter was losing his precariously balanced control, Sam and Janet finished their artwork and stood back to admire their efforts. Walter was completely covered in camouflage paint from his shiny head to his little tootsies, back and front. No red peeped through, and the only things that stood out were the whites of his eyes and the pink of his mouth when he opened it.

"We did good," nodded Sam, satisfied with the results. 

Janet was eyeing Walter, speculatively. She took the red dickie bow and fastened it round his neck. Peals of laughter rang out from Sam and Sharpe.

"Oh, Janet, that's perfect," chuckled Sam. "What do you think...Mr. July?"

"Yes, Mr. July," nodded Janet.

They arranged Harriman amongst the plants with a fern frond helping to cover his paint covered dick. Sharpe was able to take several very artistic shots.

"Four down," whispered Sam.

"I can't help feeling these are going to be the easy ones," replied Janet dryly.

Sam rolled her eyes in agreement.

* * *

Jack O' Neill sat in his office, pondering the meaning of life...no really he was! To the untrained observer it may have appeared as though he was sitting there daydreaming and studiously ignoring the piles of paperwork on his desk, while spinning on his cool office chair, but Jack knew the truth. //

He felt good; in fact he had not felt this good in ten years. His hair and knees might feel like they were pushing sixty on a good day, but the rest of him felt thirty, if not younger. He had been doing extra sessions at a gym in the Springs. At the mountain he projected an image of nonchalance about the calendar ....you know "for the sake of the programme," or even better "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." But really Jack was looking forward to it, even more he was looking forward to having a LOT of fun at Daniel's expense...lots and lots of Fun with a capital F. Sometimes life was sweet.

Daniel was refusing to do the decent thing though and be in Jack's vicinity for prolonged and vigorous mickey taking. He was in hiding somewhere, signed in, but resolutely out to lunch! Jack had not even been able to get some pre-emptive teasing in over the past couple of months, because SG-1's mission schedule had been nuts. Daniel had not been hanging around as much with him out of work either, so Jack was feeling the need to do some serious messing with Daniel's head.

Suddenly, in the midst of all this self-analysis there came a nervous rap at the door.

"Come in," he barked impatiently.

Nothing happened.

He could hear the sounds of a whispered argument outside in the corridor.

"COME IN!" he bellowed.

Suddenly the door crashed open and his very flustered SIC came flying into the room.

"Carter! What the hell is going on?" 

Sam righted herself, ran fingers through her unkempt hair and turned to glare through the open door at a small, sniggering CMO, who was unrepentantly sticking her tongue out at her irate friend.

"Carter, what size are you?"

"Size, Sir?" Sam gulped.

"Height, Carter." 

"Oh...about 5.10, Sir." 

"And what height is Dr Fraiser would you say?"

"Umm about 5.0, Colonel...in her heels."

"And what is the difference in your weights?" pursued Jack.

Sam blushed and denied knowing what Janet's weight was relative to hers.

"And yet," said Jack with biting sarcasm. "She manages to push you, a combat trained Major, second in command of the premiere off world team through a door. Nearly taking it's hinges off for good measure."

Sam scowl forbiddingly at the Colonel in a way that suggested to Jack he was going to be in for one humdinger of an astrophysics lecture the next time Carter had the opportunity, yep not only slides but probably a pop quiz too. 

Sam was pissed. "Yes Sir," she returned smartly. "But as we know, size is relative. Would you not agree?"

Jack narrowed his eyes and observed the visibly seething Major. "Oops," he thought, "time for some damage limitation." He did not need a thought like that broadcasting itself for half the base to hear, the next time Anise or weasel face Aldwin came a-calling with their Zarcrap doohickey.

Time for a well thought out distraction.

"Carter, how do you think the Tok'ra get hold of Wonder bras?"

"E...e...excuse me, Sir? What did you just say? For a moment there I thought you said...Wonder bras?"

"Yes, Major, I did. Anise had some major scaffolding going on under that - dress. You're a female, Carter, you must know! Or do you suppose she's had a boob job? That would account for it I suppose. It annoys the crap out of me, not being able to look her in the eye, if you catch my drift. And while we're on the subject, why doesn't she have goose bumps when exiting the wormhole? I mean we might not freeze anymore but still it's chilly and she's hardly dressed..." Jack cast around for a word to describe Anise's wardrobe. "... actually that's it...She's hardly dressed."

"Oh!" replied Sam weakly. Even years of enduring the Colonel's tirades on any number of topics had not prepared her to handle this line of enquiry.

A voiced piped up from the still open doorway.

"I must say I've noticed she has two rather prominent goose bumps, especially in your vicinity, Colonel. And not even a wonder bra could perform a miracle of nature like that! Definitely some sort of breast reconstruction if you want a medical opinion. Either that or she has some gravity defying force field surrounding them."

Sam found her voice..."Yes, thank-you for that valuable contribution to the conversation, Janet. I, for one, will not sleep tonight with that image in my head."

"Just count Ben Browders," retorted Janet mischievously. "That should do the trick."

"Who the hell is Ben Browner?" Jack demanded of a disconcerted and speechless Sam.

Janet answered. "Have you not seen Farscape then, Sir? It's a cool Sci-Fi series - complete nonsense of course, but very entertaining and Ben Browder is a total babe."

"I never watch that Sci-Fi crap. How far fetched can you get?"

"You know I've always thought Ben looks a lot like Daniel, minus the glasses obviously," Sam interjected dreamily.

Jack and Janet stared hard at the suddenly flushed Sam.

"Carter, are you saying Daniel, our Daniel...is... is a babe?" 

Jack went off into peals of laughter, while a mortified Sam fidgeted at being the butt of the Colonel's amusement.

"Thank-you, Carter." Jack was mopping his streaming eyes with a tissue thoughtfully passed by Janet. "That's the best laugh I've had in ages. Have you told Daniel you think he's God's gift to Air Force Major's with an Astrophysics degree?" he asked slyly. "And when did you last have a psych evaluation? I'm not going up the ramp with someone delusional you know."

"Sir! I'm just saying Daniel looks a little like Ben Browder, that's all."

"When is this Farsight on? I've gotta take a look."

"Thursday at 9.00pm on the Sci-Fi channel," answered Janet promptly.

"Carter! Team night at yours next Thursday. Doc, you come too," Jack ordered high-handedly, taking advantage of Sam's agitation.

"Colonel, it's time for your photo shoot," interjected Janet hastily, eyeing a shaken, skittish Sam warily. Janet did not know the symptoms of spontaneous combustion, but she reckoned she might see proof of its existence in the next 10 seconds if Sam did not cool down soon. Janet patted her pocket reflexively; she always had her trusty chill-pills on hand to help. Slipping her friend a mickey was not against her medical principles.

"Well, gosh and golly, go figure," replied the irascible colonel. "All right, ladies, where do you want me?"

"Antarctica would be nice," Sam mumbled, "preferably with no clothes, no GDO and definitely no sidearm."

Jack turned his head and favoured Carter with one of his hard stares that were usually reserved for Goa'uld and Russians, but which Daniel said meant that the Colonel had constipation; he decided he had misheard what his subordinate officer had said.

"Have you had any thoughts about your pose, Sir?" asked Janet as a distraction.

"Yes, I have as a matter of fact. I thought behind a big, big telescope, ya know combine my interest in astronomy with the calendar and maybe I could wear a bandana too!"

"A big t...t...telescope Colonel?" stuttered Janet gamely.

"Yes, have we got one somewhere? I thought of bringing mine in, but I reckon it'll be too small as it's only got a 254mm refractor and its magnification is not what it once was. In fact getting it up can be a real chore nowadays."

"I....I...I've heard that can happen, Sir" gasped Janet, winking at the rapidly recovering Sam. Laughter really was the best medicine.

"Colonel, we have a 'scope with a 1146mm refractor on base in one of the storage rooms. Would that do?" pondered Sam.

Jack pouted in a manner which meant he had been spending lots of time with a certain civilian linguist. "I was hoping for something a little bigger but that'll just have to do."

"How would you feel about being outside in the open, Colonel?"

"You mean topside? I guess that would be okay."

Janet was visualizing with relish. "Wearing your shades and fingerless gloves, oh and your black leather jacket, unzipped of course."

"Of course, Doctor Fraiser!" Jack had a knack with sarcasm. "My command is your wish. What colour should my bandana be?" And he could persist with it indefinitely.

"You could borrow one of Daniel's, he has lots." Sam's eyes sparkled at the mental images her memories invoked.

"Does Ben whatisface wear them too, Carter?" Jack could not resist.

"I wouldn't know," replied Sam primly, her eyes promising retribution at her earliest convenience, possibly involving his photos and a large eraser.

One hour later the sound of groaning could be heard in the clearing behind the exit shaft from the base to the mountain. A group of SF's were positioning the large telescope on its tripod. Major Ferretti was supervising...allegedly.

"Hey, Jack," he shouted. "We've all got telescope envy. No wonder your knees are shot having to carry something like this around with you."

All the SF's were enjoying the hilarity at the Colonel's expense.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Laugh it up Ferretti. I realise anything with this kind of zoom capability is bound to be a threat to your little 'scope. And anymore wisecracks outta you, will result in us all seeing a total eclipse of your ass by my boot. So, was there anything else, Ferretti?"

"No, Sir!" Ferretti replied smartly as he and the SF's made a hasty exit.

"Let's get this over with! Carter, outta here!"

"But, Sir," protested Sam.

"Janet can stay, she's seen it all before, but you're outta here."

Sam trudged off with a frustrated, sullen expression on her face. Jack, Janet and Sharpe could hear muttered snatches of "Why does Janet have all the fun?" and "I bet Pete's is bigger" and even "I certainly don't have penis envy."

Jack stripped off, except for his leather jacket, sunglasses and fingerless gloves. He donned the stars and stripes bandana he'd gotten from Daniel's locker (he must remember to have the lock fixed) and maneuvered the huge telescope into position.

Sharpe had being trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. He'd heard about the Colonel. 

"Sir, are you sure about that position?" asked Janet.

"Why? What's wrong...CARTER!" he suddenly bawled. "Get from behind that tree now and remove yourself to base and that's an order!"

A disgruntled Sam slunk from her furtive observation point and shuffled to the entrance. Her whole demeanour, was one of a child who'd woken on Christmas morning to find her stocking empty. 

"Now! What about the position, Doc?"

"Well, Sir, it could be construed as looking a little suggestive?" Janet replied tentatively.

"It has to point up, Janet, it's a telescope."

"Yes, Colonel, but shouldn't you be looking through it?"

"Nah, this works, I'm sure. You! Sharpe. Don't stand there gawping, take the damn things already."

"Y...y...yes Sir, Colonel,Sir, I just have to adjust the frame, it really is an awfully large telescope you know."

"So I've been told." Jack smirked and winked at him.

Janet rolled her eyes; she was going to book some leave.

She would need it.

* * *

Hammond, Jack, Teal'c, Janet and Sharpe were sat in the Briefing room enjoying a much needed rest break when Sam burst in.

"General Hammond, there is an urgent communique from Langara...It's Jonas, Sir."

"Go ahead, Mr. Quinn," invited Hammond.

"General, I've been hearing disturbing reports about a worldwide lack of bananas there on Earth. Is that true, Sir?"

"Bananas, Mr. Quinn?" The General looked in bewilderment around the table. Sam caught his eye.

"Sir, if I may," she waited for his nod of assent. "I believe there is a world shortage of bananas. It's believed to be something to do with the infestation of a new banana eating insect. It was completely unknown before last year, Sir. I believe scientists are calling it the Sanoj parasite; they have an insatiable appetite for anything banana related."

"Mr. Quinn, did you get that?"

The General could see the look of distress on the Langaran's face and the ubiquitous toothy grin was no longer in evidence.

"Yes, Sir! I'm afraid I can no longer participate in the calendar. Without bananas Earth is a mundane place with inedible food. All joy in the visit has been lost to me."

A hush descended on the briefing room only broken by the Colonel's not particularly sotto voce shout of ,"Shame, someone give the little Sanoj buggers a medal!"

The General was genuinely saddened by the turn of events.

"I'm sorry you will not be able to join us, Mr. Quinn. We had high hopes of you in the calendar, but please don't worry. I'm sure someone else will provide the comedy value."

Hammond looked around the table.

"We need another vic...volunteer. Any suggestions?"

Jack had an evil grin on his face, which suggested he did indeed have someone in mind.

"Major Ferretti is a fine figure of a man," he stated in his shockingly bad faux Irish accent. "I believe he would make a perfect model for the calendar. In fact why did we not ask him originally, Carter?"

Sam blushed and fidgeted in her seat.

"A-ha!" pounced the Colonel. "What did he threaten you with?"

"Base wide screensavers...of me dressed as Barbarella with several of my alien boyfriends," admitted Sam, reluctantly.

"Would you like to ask Major Ferretti to take part, Colonel?" asked Hammond drily.

"No, Sir! - But I would like to order him to umm....volunteer."

Hammond had not forgotten about his earlier coversation with the president. "I think we would all like to see that, Colonel."

"Put a call to summon Major Ferretti to the briefing room please, Major." 

Lou Ferretti strolled to the briefing room with a song in his heart. Unfortunately for those in his immediate vicinity it was also being broadcast rather tunelessly via his lips in a strangled whistle. Life was rather sweet for Lou at the moment; the calendar was providing his fertile mind with great fun at his colleagues expense. Not many subordinates got the chance to play their superior officers, plus make a bit of money and the real icing on the cake, mess with the premier SGC team...well three quarters of them anyway. Teal'c was exempt from any shit.

This was a non-negotiable rule.

Lou had tried teasing Teal'c once, swapping his regular meditation candles for inextinguishable ones. SF's in the locality heard rather a lot of frantic blowing, some shouted Chulackian imprecations and then an angry roaring, that could be heard three floors either side of Teal'c's quarters. Two SF's had to be treated for tinnitus for a week afterwards. 

Lou might have got away with it had Teal'c not taken in his head to blast the offending candles with his staff weapon, thus causing the base to believe there was a full scale invasion. Once everything had calmed down, the base released from lockdown and Teal'c was attempting a two day Kel-no-reem, General Hammond had ordered an inquiry into the incident that had caused the destruction of most of Level 25. 

The results was that Lou got busted down to Lieutenant and was minus a couple of teeth, courtesy of a pissed off Jaffa. He had learned a painful but valuable lesson.

Do not mess with Teal'c.

Ever!

All this just meant that it was Dr. Daniel Jackson who figured in the most nefarious schemes that Lou could cook up. Jack and Sam had too, to a lesser extent, but for sheer getting the shit teased out of him, Lou figured no-one beat the doc. As soon as Lou had found out about the calendar, he'd tapped one of his contacts in IT and they had been e-mailing Daniel a weekly photo manipulation. Daniel's head superimposed on to various naked bodies, all in rather risque poses. Lou had to admit they were pretty damn good, he'd looked really closely and he could not see the joins.

He approached the briefing room with no qualms, just expecting to be given some more of the fetching and carrying work that made gossip so easy to come by.

As he entered the room, his senses instantly went on full alert. "Aw crap!" he told himself. The Colonel was looking pleased to see him, General Hammond was smiling benignly and Teal'c had a smirk on his face.

This meant only one thing, Lou was in deep do-do. He was up shit creek, with no paddle, no canoe and no life jacket by the look of things.

"Ah Major, there you are," stated O' Neill, in a light voice.

"Yes, Sir," replied Lou, swallowing hard.

"I'm afraid we've had some bad news. Unfortunately Jonas is unable to make it to pose for the calendar. Obvioulsy we need another person."

Lou waited in trepidation for the axe to fall.

"We wondered if you could suggest someone that may be interested in taking part?"

Oh...oh! They only wanted him to recommend someone. He could do that.

"Ummm Captain Brandby?"

"Too thin," replied Jack.

"Sergeant James?"

"Too fat," said Sam.

"Major Michaels?" Lou was thinking desperately.

"Too offworld," answered Teal'c, his smile even wider than before.

"Lieutenant Collins?"- a touch of panic now.

"Too on leave," interjected Janet.

"Technician Levy?"

"Too pregnant. Ferretti! Haven't you noticed? She must be a few months along now."

"Five and a half months to be precise, Colonel," returned Janet crisply.

"Why that must have been about the time of the St. Valentine's Ball we had. I remember it well. Who was your date that night, Ferretti? I seem to recall you and she were a little ummm...tipsy."

Lou was frantically doing sums in his head and hoping like hell it did not add up to him wearing a paternity suit at a christening.

Sweat was slowly dripping down Lou's brow as he plucked names at random.

"Dr Lee!"

Everyone burst out laughing.

"Lou, Lou is that the best you can do?" asked a palpably amused Jack.

Teal'c stood and loomed menancingly. " I believe Louisferretti would be an excellent subject to photograph. I would be most pleased to assist him with his posing."

Lou almost choked at the thought of Teal'c 'assisting him.'

General Hammond shook his head sadly, but Lou could see his eyes dancing.

"Why, Teal'c, what an excellent idea, now why did we not think of that?"

"What do you say, Major? Would you like to take part?"

Just then the red phone rang in the General's office, Hammond went to answer it leaving the communicating door open. The occupants of the Briefing room could hear a one sided conversation.

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Just asked him, Mr. President."

"Oh, I'm sure he will, Mr. President."

"Thank-you, Mr. President."

The General returned to his seat.

"That was the President."

Jack bit back a snarky, "No, really?"

"Oh and he'd like to talk to you, Major," addressing Lou.

Lou walked to the red phone like it was an electric chair, he picked up the reciever. "It's Major Ferretti, Mr. President." He listened for a few minutes. "Yes Sir, Mr. President," he said quietly, then placed the phone back on its hook with the utmost reverence.

This was payback with several capital P's. He faced the beaming faces in the Briefing room.

"Umm the President would like me to participate in the calendar," he reported shortly, not detailing the method of persuasion used; Lou certainly did not have an Antartican A-Z.

"Anything else, Major?"

A grin broke out on Lou's face. "Yes, Sir, he asked me to put $100 on Teal'c to win."

Twenty minutes later Lou found himself, Major Carter, Dr. Fraiser and that Sharpe guy congregating in the infirmary. Before he knew it, he was stripped, wearing a green surgical mask, latex gloves, had a stethoscope around his neck and was holding a clipboard.

"Ow! This stethoscope is cold," he moaned, "and why am I dressed up as someone from the medical profession? I know nothing about it."

"I've heard from Technician Levy, that you are very good at playing Doctors and Nurses though, Major," retorted Janet impishly. "Oh and by the way you've got the stethoscope pressed to the wrong pulse. How do you feel about being Mr. February?"

Lou scowled and looked un-cooperative.

Sam was feeling malicious. "Tell me, Major Sharpe, can you do photo manips? Make things appear smaller, that sort of thing?"

"Why yes, Major Carter. Why do you ask?"

Lou swallowed, he knew where this was going.

"All right, what do you want?" he sulkily demanded of Sam.

"Well you know those manips of Daniel you've been sending him?"

"Okay, okay - I'll make sure they're stopped."

Sam was shocked. "NO! Don't stop them, just make sure you send them to me and Janet too."

* * *

The main protagonists gathered once more in the Briefing room.

"It should really be Daniel's turn now," said Sam of the elusive archaeologist.

"Well go and find him then, Carter!"

"Do not attempt to do so Majorcarter. I am willing to pose for the images at this time, thus allowing Danieljackson time to procure some composure."

"Teal'c, that is so noble of you," gushed Janet, suspiciously bright eyed and quivery.

All the other occupants of the room looked interestedly at the CMO, who, as she became aware of the scrutiny, blushed and subsided quietly into her chair.

"Have you any ideas on your pose, Teal'c?" asked Sam.

Teal'c cocked his head to one side. "Stood straight, surrounded by candles."

Janet was visualising this, "Mmmmm... mmm...mmm."

"Did ya mumble something there, Doc?" asked Jack roguishly.

"What are you going to use to hide your...um..."Sam cast her mind desperately for a word she could use.

"I have no qualms about displaying my genitalia, Majorcarter. Is there a need to conceal them?"

"Whoa there, big guy! Just because you can bring out the big guns, don't think we all can." 

"I was not referring to a gun, O'Neill. I was in fact speaking about my penis."

Jack opened his mouth but could think of nothing to say,so he closed it with a thwarted snap. Sam decided to intervene.

"Yes, I'm afraid so Teal'c. This calendar is targeted for mass consumption, if you let it all hang out, then the appeal of the calendar will be limited to top shelf establishments."

Sam could not but agree with Janet's whispered, "Damn shame."

"Would my staff weapon be appropriate?"

"I think it would be too thin in the shaft to decently cover you," answered Janet promptly...very promptly, almost as though she'd already thought about the logistics.

"Oooooh Teal'c," cried Sam excitedly, "What about that little chain mail apron thing you have on your armour? Can it be removed?"

Teal'c bowed his head in his usual dignified, benevolent way.

Minutes later Teal'c, Sam, Janet and Sharpe were in Teal'c's quarters. While Sharpe was setting up his equipment, Janet and Sam began stacking candles in an arc, on shelves and tables. They lit them and the room was filled with golden illumination. Teal'c casually stripped off before them, tied the chain mail around his waist and reached for his mighty weapon. - NO! His staff weapon! Get your minds out of the gutter please:-)

Janet had brought three items to use on Teal'c. She figured his ebony skin needed nothing but a sleek shine to show it to its best advantage, and his gold emblem needed a final polish. So she'd come armed with Pledge, a duster and some baby oil, and no one was going to deny her the right to apply them.

She located a small stool, stood on it, poured some of the fragrant oil in her palms, rubbed them together and began stroking over the leashed power of Teal'c's arms. Smoothing the oil up into the hollows of his collar bones and down over the broad expanse of the massive chest, Janet moved her hands in slow circles until she had glistening skin reflecting the burnished glow of the myriad candles. She stepped off the stool and replenished the oil in her small hands and focused on his waist, hips and thighs. She knelt in front of the huge, statue like Jaffa and smothered his toes, feet, ankles, calves and knees with the thoroughness that only someone with a specialised knowledge of anatomy could. She stood back up on the stool to anoint Teal'c's head, ears and face.

"Are you well doctorFraiser? Your breathing is most irregular and shallow."

"Oh it's fine, Teal'c," gushed Janet, with a bright smile and gleaming eyes.

Janet stepped back to survey Teal'c with all the pride of a great artist who had just finished a masterpiece. Not an inch of skin had she missed. She was aware the room was very quiet, Sam and Sharpe were looking at her like she had grown three heads. Sam was seething with jealousy, Janet could not help throwing her a smug, superior look. Janet took the perks of her job where she could get 'em, friends or no friends.

Suck it up, blondie!

She whipped out the Pledge and stood on the stool once more and sprayed some on his emblem, merrily polishing away till it shone. Teal'c had a twinkle in his eyes, well Janet hoped that was what it was and not the residue of the polish; she may have been a tad enthusiastic there with her trigger finger.

Sam was speechless, she was sure she had just seen an indecent act committed with a duster and polish.

Teal'c then began to strike a regal pose with his staff weapon held proudly before him. Sharpe prepared to take the photographs. Just as he was about to do so, Teal'c began to fidget and twitch.

"Umm Mr. Teal'c," he was slightly nervous of the imposing Jaffa. "Is everything okay?"

"I am unsure," Teal's growled, "The crevices of my body are experiencing some discomfort, they feel...slippery."

"Oh, that is the Baby Oil. Nothing to worry about, Teal'c," reassured Janet.

"I regret I very much dislike the sensations I am experiencing. Also I am not a baby."

"No, Teal'c, it is very good for all skins and it makes yours look superb."

Teal'c had a look of fastidious disdain on his features. "I will endeavour to hold still, but please do no use this infant emollient on me again. It is beneath my dignity as a Jaffa warrior to have to experience something so unpleasantly unctuous."

"I will jot it down on your file," Janet promised. "What do you think Sam? Mr. November?"

"Yes, definitely." Sam was thinking of long, dark nights and autumn leaves.Sam elbowed Sharpe to begin and he did so with alacrity. 

When the session was finished, Janet felt a little guilty, so she offered to accompany Teal'c into the shower to wash off the offending oil. She was politely but firmly declined.

"Ah well, you win some -you lose some," she smiled.

"That's it for today," sighed Sam.

"Thank goodness. Seven down, five to go," agreed Janet, "I'm exhausted."

"But what a five."

* * *

The next day dawned not particularly bright but damned early for Jack, who was trying to track down a missing linguist cum pain in the ass. Daniel had not signed out the previous day so was still lurking somewhere in the grey corridors within Cheyenne Mountain. Jack was going to give it another thirty minutes and then he was sending Teal'c to do his dirty work. Chaka was due through the gate at eleven hundred hours and they needed an Unas speaker to translate, "Get your kit off and whip out your muddy coloured cock," else it could get very messy. God knew when Thor would beam himself down and Jacob and Bratac would be gating in at some point too.

Jack was peeking in one of the storage rooms up on level twenty and you had to use special ops training when looking in these rooms. You just never knew what might be going on in them.

"Greetings, O'Neill."

"Jeez Thor! Give a guy some warning will ya.?"

"Are you not expecting me? Is this not the day we agreed for my participation in your noble endeavour?"

"My nobbly what? Oh the calendar, yes, today's the day"

"Then my - little grey butt is at your disposal, O'Neill."

Jack figured this was going to be fun and he planned to stick around for Thor's photo session.

"We just need to get the Brief...Oh! We're here!" Thor had done his blink and you miss it molecular reconstruction thingy.

"Hi Guys, General," Jack called to the caffeine imbibing group huddled around the table. "Look who's dropped in ready to have his photo taken."

"Hello, Thor, where did you spring from?" George was intrigued.

"I came aboard the Daniel Jackson, General Hammond."

There was a deathly silence, broken by some guffaws from Jack.

"I've heard the Daniel Jackson can be a bit of a bumpy ride."

"Colonel!" Jack subsided...for now.

Greetings were exchanged and an introduction was made to an open mouthed Major Sharpe.

General Hammond broached the delicate subject. "Thor - How would you like to sit for the photographs?"

"I have given great thought to my strategy, General Hammond. We Asgard are very fond of your planet's western films, and I believe it would give my comrades great joy to see me ape one of those heroic cowboys."

All the humans in the room gaped at the small, grey alien. Anything less like a cowboy could not imagined.

"I would like to borrow a - stetson and a necktie. Will I be given some of these calendars for my brethren?" 

Sam, trying and failing to picture Asgard ships decorated with nearly nude calendars reassured Thor on this key point.

A white stetson, plus another one of Daniel's bandana's were soon found and before long Thor had the hat at a rakish angle on his head and the red cloth tied expertly around his neck by General Hammond.

Thor sat in one of the black leather briefing room chairs and jauntily crossed his thin, gangly legs.

Jack, Janet and Sam just could not look at each other, Hammond or Sharpe The temptation to double up and laugh themselves sick was unbelievable. 

Sharpe had set up his equipment with such a flabbergasted look of disbelief on his face, that even Teal'c was trying to disguise his amusement. He was doing a poor job. Jack decided to mess with the Jaffa's serious mind.

"Hey T! You okay?"

"I am, O'Neill," he replied, trying hard to stifle the laughter bubbling up in his throat.

"I have a new nickname for you."

Teal'c's face took on a resigned look; he'd been disconcerted by the Tauri's fondness for nicknames and O'Neill's tended to be more colourful than most.

Jack pitched his voice so everyone could hear. "How do you feel about being called the Chuckling Chulackian?"

Silence greeted this announcement for exactly twenty seconds....Then to everyone's surprise, including his own, Teal'c burst into the biggest belly laugh anyone had ever heard yet from the stoic warrior. The room seemed to vibrate with the force of Teal'c's hilarity; the sound was so unexpected and yet so joyful that it had everyone else laughing too. Poor Sharpe was the only exception; the look on his face suggested strongly he would never take a photograph in his right mind again. Even Thor seemed to be emitting a soft...cackle.

Sharpe's aghast expression kept setting them off again and it was several minutes before they all calmed down.

"Never mind, Sharpe, at least Thor has nothing to hide." Jack decided to encourage the young Major.

Sam was demure. "Yes, but Sir, he has a huge head."

"Have you any grey make-up,Carter?" asked Jack teasingly.

"Grey?" Sam gulped.

"Well, look at Thor, he's all shiny and reflecting too much light."

Sam and Janet scanned the contents of their make-up bags. Finally mixing some face powder and some black eyeshadow they had a tolerable grey. Thor showed every sign of enjoyment, moving his head this way and that as Janet applied the matt covering with a big, soft brush.

"We have decided you will be Mr. June if that's ok with you, Thor? We want to put one of the stranger looking models next to a more normal looking one in the calendar."

"I am fine with that, Major Carter. Which normal looking model will be next to me?"

Sam was puzzled. "You misunderstand me. You are next to Major Davis."

Enlightenment dawned on the alien and he hurried to assume his pose.

"Umm Thor? Why are you screwing your face up?" asked Jack.

"I am endeavouring to have an enigmatic smile, O'Neill," he replied.

"Ahhh." 

Sharpe readied himself and his equipment for the photos. A soft, cultured voice stopped him.

"I'm afraid you cannot take pictures of me with that apparatus."

The photographer contemplated the grey alien in the stetson and red necktie, attempting an inscrutable smile while crossing his legs.

"I'm sorry. Is the machinery a cultural taboo?"

Thor stared back at the human unblinkingly.

"No...you have not removed the lens cap."

After Thor had finished posing, he nibbled on some Twinkies and beamed back to the Daniel Jackson, very proud of his new status as an alien pin up and that his superior naked, grey butt was to be displayed around Earth.

* * *

Soon the claxon sounded once more, heralding the arrival of another ally cum model. It was Jacob Carter.

Jack, Teal'c and Sam waited at the bottom of the ramp as Jacob strolled down.

"Hey, Sammie," he said stretching up to give her a kiss.

"Hey, Dad."

"I bet you never thought you'd see your old dad as a male model?"

As Sam laughed, an intense look of discomfort passed over Jacob's features.

"What is it Jacob?" asked Jack.

Jacob snorted ruefully. "Selmak does not approve of my participation in the calendar. He does not feel it a worthy enterprise for a Tok'ra." He whispered conspiratorially."Between you and me, Selmak is a prude!"

Jacob bowed his head; when he spoke again, it was in Selmak's disconcerting intonation. "Greetings. I am not a prude, I just believe that nudity has its place and should not be displayed across the universe."

"Tell me, Selmak? Did you ever a similar conversation with Anise? Cos I gotta tell ya, I don't think she has a nudity taboo. I mean we were always getting up close and personal with her goosebumps."

Selmak tone was disparaging, "Anise's host is young and comely, not grizzled and hoary."

Jacob came back. "Hey! Watch who you are calling grizzled, you old prune."

"Prune! I have had hosts who rivalled the great Egreria in their beauty. I had to be dying, to be saddled with a short, grey and bald Tauri," Selmak spat, disconcertingly returning once more.

Sam decided to play peacemaker. "Let's go and discuss this in the briefing room."

Jack was enjoying himself hugely though. "Twenty bucks on the snake," he whispered to Teal'c.

"Sir!" Sam was outraged.

Jacob was still livid. "Don't forget I saved your Tok'ra ass." 

"It was I who saved your Tauri - butt. And a saggy, hairy one it is too. I remember thinking is this the best they can do?" Selmak's inflection was incandescent with rage.

"Yes, well it's my butt and if I want to show it off - I will! If you don't like it push off!"

"Dad!"

"I will! You'll be sorry Jacob Carter."

"Selmak!"

"And don't come running to me when you can't find anyone that will put up with your snakey shenanigans!"

"I'm going to give you constipation for a week. I'll bring you out in boils. You're going to have a painful burning whenever you pass water. And your feet will smell like they have not been washed for months. Wait...silly me, they already do that." Selmak was quite vicious when riled.

"Why, you jumped up waste of a good handbag. I'll..."

"Jacob! Selmak! Stop this unseemly display at once!" General Hammond arrived and intervened.

Sam cast a grateful look in his direction, as Jacob subsided sullenly.

"Right people, let's remove this to the Briefing Room."

Once everyone was relocated, Jacob began pacing agitatedly, muttering to himself distractingly. Sam cast a look of mute appeal towards General Hammond.

"This is going to require careful handling," he remarked in a low voice to the three quarters of SG1 who were with him. "Someone with great diplomacy and tact."

"Say no more General, I'm your man!" Jack was very confident; it was just as well he did not see Sam's face blanch alarmingly, Hammond's look of incredulity and Teal'c's ascending eyebrows.

"General, Sir!" Sam protested, imagining quite graphically how the Tok'ra would be renamed the Tok'tauri as a result of O'Neill's mediation and regrettably uncontrollable alleged humour.

Hammond patted her arm soothingly."Jack," he called. "Maybe this would be the ideal opportunity to locate Dr Jackson, he could attempt to broker peace between Jacob and Selmak and then translate for Chaka and perhaps it will make him more comfortable with the process."

Jack looked chagrined, but he could see the legitimacy of George's reasoning. "But where is he, Sir? We've looked everywhere."

"Everywhere but the firing range?"

"The firing range, Sir?" echoed a stunned Jack.

"Yes. I have it on good authority that he was there most of yesterday. I've heard reports that he was hitting the bullseye every time!"

"Daniel, Sir?"

"Why don't you go and retrieve him, Colonel? It may give the situation here time to calm down."

Jack was already heading for the exit.

As Jack entered the firing range he could see a huge pile of discarded targets heaped on the floor. He extracted one and stared at it in total bewilderment. He was face to face with a life size photograph of himself, complete with several large holes in-between the eyes. He pounced on another; it was identical and so was the third.

Jack found another that was so obliterated it suggested Daniel had swapped his sidearm for a P-90 or more probably a staff weapon. The only distinguishing feature of Jack's, were his shades; Daniel had always liked those.

Daniel's marksmanship was sure improving though, but Jack was a little perturbed that it might be him as the target that was inducing the newfound skills.

Jack looked for his elusive civilian and he spotted him in one of the bays, t-shirt clinging to his sweat drenched torso and standing with his legs apart as he braced his body for the gunshots. His arms were extended in front of him as he pointed his weapon. Tension wracked his slim frame as he fired bullet after bullet into yet another Jack target, screaming in a culmination of physical release as he completed the rounds.

Then came deathly silence as Daniel slumped in reaction, panting from the sheer energy he'd expended.

Jack casually propped himself up on one of the bay walls."Hey Daniel."

Daniel whipped his head round. "Jack!" he answered tersely.

"Watchadoin'?"

"Ummm let me see. Oh yes! I'm doing some shooting practice, which kinda accounts for me being on the shooting range dontchathink?" No one did sarcastically snarky like Daniel, not even Jack.

"You seem to be hitting the bullseye too."

Daniel did not answer - he was futzing with his gun.

"Well if you're interested, the calendar is going well. Even done my pose. A work of art even if I say so myself." Jack was nonchalant. Daniel gave every appearance of totally ignoring him.

"Yes, everyone but you, Chaka and Bratac left to do. Jonas couldn't make it, bananas apparently." Jack felt that this explained everything. "Don't worry though, we coerced Ferretti into participating, we needed the comedy value from somewhere."

Jack was worried, the only time Daniel was this quiet was when he was dead. "Forcryingoutloud Daniel. Why am I the bad guy here? You don't want to do the damn calendar, fine," he yelled. "But as it happens, we need your help. Jacob and Selmak are staging the first interspecies, solo wrestling match and it's getting real ugly. So if you could come and do your diplomacy thing and leave Mr. Whiny behind, I'd be really grateful."

With this Jack stalked off with all the fake offended and hurt hauteur he could muster, leaving an open mouthed, baffled Daniel staring after him.

Jack was striding down the corridor, counting down in his head, '5, 4, 3, 2..."

"Umm...Jack! Wait...please."

Jack allowed himself a small, triumphant smile, before turning stone faced to Daniel. "Yes, Daniel," he sing-songed.

"I'm sorry, Jack, I'm not mad at you."

Yep! Jack could still play the archaeologist even after all these years. "Realllllllllllllllly? You shooting the crap out of my photos made me think otherwise. I can't think why."

Daniel did his wincing thing. "I was just projecting. I found them in one of the cupboards. Major Griff said the recruits used them to help them focus. Apparently shooting accuracy improved immensely after they were introduced as targets," he added innocently.

Jack decided let that keep. "Truthfully, Daniel, do you really hate the thought of doing the calendar so much?"

"It's not so much the photographs, as..." Daniel trailed off, at a loss how to explain to Jack.

"What, Danny? You can tell me anything you know that." Jack's unusually gentle tone proved too much for the younger man. He needed to share.

He grabbed Jack by the epaulettes and dragged him to a convenient storage cupboard. Daniel began to babble; "Only Janet knows, and I swore her to secrecy, I don't want everyone to know, you promise you won't tell? It's embarrassing...please, Jack," he begged.

"Whoah! Daniel, breathe. Of course I promise. Tell me!" Jack invited.

Daniel backed away from Jack with a pleading, vulnerable look on his face. He unbuckled his belt, took a deep breath and yanked down his trousers and then shyly looked back at Jack.

Jack stared; he could not help it. There was total silence for about thirty seconds.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?" He bawled, his eyes riveted to Daniel's crotch.

Daniel sighed and tried to look as if that part of his body did not belong to him. "Apparently...well Janet thinks, Oma gave me a leaving present when I de-ascended."

"She wiped your memory but gave you a freaking huge cock? I gotta try this ascension thing."

Daniel looked distressed at Jack's lack of empathy for his suffering and turned around to cover himself.

"Watch what you're doing, you'll break something swinging it like that. No wonder your BDU's are baggy. Damn, you should have a third leg sewn into them."

"Jack! Forget it, okay? This is exactly why I didn't tell you before. I had to pick Jack 'Everything is a joke' O' shitty' Neill as a friend. I should have known better than to tell you."

Realising he had truly lacerated his friend's sensitive feelings, Jack hurried to make reparation. "Daniel!" he grabbed the civilian's shoulders. "It's okay."

"I'm a freak," Daniel protested.

"Don't be riduculous," replied Jack softly. "All the guys on base would sell their souls to pack the kind of equipment you've been given. Me included. As for the gals...." Jack whistled.

"What did the doc say when she saw it?"

Daniel thought..."Well her eyes kinda glazed over, then she wanted to measure it...It took a long time for her to get an accurate reading, she had to do it several times before she was successful."

'I just bet," Jack thought ruefully. Another more disturbing thought occurred to him.

"Why the hell did Oma give you that, anyway?"

"I don't know, I can't remember."

"You and she must have got it together,"

"Jack, ascended beings have no bodies, they can't get it together."

"Well, Carter and that Oily managed it just fine."

"Orlin," Daniel stressed, "was de-ascended at the time."

"Dannyboy, I'm sure bits of him had to be ascended."

Daniel was furious. "Jack, your off colour remarks at a time like this are just typical of you."

"Damn! Oma wanted you. Mother, my ass! All this time we thought you got chucked back because of your lofty ideals and wanting to help defeat Anubis and all the time it was probably cos' you wouldn't put out."

"How do you know I didn't put out?"

It was childish provocation and Jack knew it, still...

"Why throw you back?"

"Why let me keep it?"

"Why wipe your memories?"

"Why let you find me?"

"Those nomads called you Arrom? I wonder why they did not call you 'huge dick' in their language."

"They wanted to, but I didn't like the sound of 'Jack'."

"Oooh Danny, at least if the programme ever closes, you'll have no problem finding an alternative career. 'Danny does Dallas.'"

"You bastard, Jack!" Daniel paused to glare at his team leader in a way that was usually reserved for false gods - soon to be dead false gods and he stormed out of the cupboard. Jack followed and called after his fast retreating butt, "Oh Daniel! - Zipper! You don't want friction burns from dragging it along the floor."

Jack navigated the corridors slowly as he followed Daniel to the briefing room. He'd been an ass, he acknowledged, but damn, everyone in the universe seemed to want Daniel. Now it seemed even freaking glowworms too. Maybe he was a little...protective, in a vigilante, overzealous type way and unfortunately it seemed to come across to Daniel as obsessive, possessive paternal crap. He had to remember Daniel was not a little boy...A tingle went up his spine - as if he'd ever forget now.

As he re-entered the briefing room, Hammond, Teal'c and Sam were huddled in one corner, while Daniel was sitting at the table talking low voiced with Jacob and Selmak. 

Daniel paused the conversation just long enough to throw the Colonel a look of such utter contempt that it had Jack blinking in consternation. "I'm sorry," he mouthed pacifically, but Daniel just gave a haughty sniff and turned back to negotiations.

After interminable back and forth arguments, peace was declared. Daniel came over, leaving Jacob and Selmak to establish a reconcilliation.

"What's the verdict, son?" Hammond's paternal affection for SG-1's civilian was evident.

Daniel gave his customary self-depracating smile. "Ummm well, it was a tough mediation, but a compromise was reached in the end."

"Selmak agrees with Jacob's participation in the calendar as long as Jacob agrees to eat nothing that will cause gas for two months, it's very uncomfortable apparently. He must gargle on a regular basis... oh and stop fantasising about Raquel Welch, that can be quite umm...unpleasant also."

Sam blushed, while Jack chuckled meanly.

"Well done, Dr Jackson," Hammond warmly praised the bashful archaeologist cum intergalactic diplomat.

"Sooo, we're good to go?" demanded Jack looking at his watch. "Time's a-pressing. Carter go get Janet and Sharpe."

"Sir," she acknowledged.

When they had all re-assembled, they fell to discussing Jacob's pose but no-one could come up with any ideas and even Sam was stumped. She was worried - she usually had the answers for everything, though not always the most practical, nor ideal solution.

It was Teal'c who finally spoke, his dark brow furrowed in concentration. 

"Could Jacobcarter be one of your Tauri snake charmers? I have seen them in one of Danieljackson's books. They are most fascinating."

"A snake charmer?" Sam was startled yet beguiled by the thought of her dad in this pose.

"But where would we get a snake?" asked the ever practical Janet. "And how would we get it to pose?"

"Daniel is a real snake charmer, aren't you, Danny boy?" Jack grinned irrepressibly at the seething archaeologist. "He can tame anything no matter how slithery and difficult to handle it is."

Everyone looked at the blushing, fidgeting Daniel. They sensed there was something going on and Janet had a fair idea what it might be. Nobody messed with Daniel in her hearing!

"Yes, Colonel, after all he tamed you and nothing in the universe could be more problematic than that," she sniped.

Jack scowled at the Doctor sitting and smiling at him sweetly. Daniel had protectors all over the universe too.

Teal'c intervened, "Would the Tok'ra, Selmak be willing to pose as the snake? He wishes to preserve Jacob's dignity, what better way than to cover up his host's genitalia?"

"Teal'c has a point," replied a thoughtful Hammond. "Is there a risk if Selmak leaves Jacob's body?

"Not at all, Sir," replied Janet, "as long as the separation is not prolonged."

"Jacob?"

"I'm not so sure, George."

"Let's ask Selmak, Dad."

Jacob bowed his head and when he raised it again, he was Selmak once more.

"I heard the question, I would be willing to do what was required of me..."

Sam sighed in relief, "That's very magnanimous of you, Selmak."

"...on condition that some other of my demands are met."

Up popped Jacob, "Why you..."

"Jacob!" General Hammond just wanted this out of the way so they could concentrate on other stuff like ummmm saving the world!

"Okay, okay what do you want?"

Selmak reappeared, only a hint of triumph in his resonant voice.

"I'd like to go to the cinema and watch Bambi. I have seen glimpses of it from Jacob, but I believe his memories must be false, they cannot have killed the mother. Oh yes and I'd like some popcorn, too."

"That seems doable," George rather dubiously concluded.

"How would you like me to leave Jacob? I can exit any of his bodily orifaces."

"HIS MOUTH," everyone immediately roared.

Jacob returned, a rueful yet grateful expression on his face.

"If we set up all the equipment, then Selmak can come out."

"Will it hurt, Dad?" asked a concerned Sam.

"No, it will just be a little uncomfortable."

"Not as much as if he'd decided to come out the back way." Jack could be disgustingly graphic. "Why, Selmak would have to have a bath and everything." 

"EWWWWW! SIR!"

"COLONEL" George looked green.

"What?" asked a grinning Jack, affecting the most unbelievably innocent expression.

"Umm I have a question?" Daniel was a little diffident.

" How is Selmak going to umm be able to cover Jacob? He's not that long. Are we going to suspend him somehow?"

"No, there's no need," replied Jacob. "The tok'ra are quite rubbery and they can bounce really quite high."

"Bounce?" echoed a dumfounded Daniel.

"Yes, bounce," confirmed Selmak, emerging once more.

"Okaaaaaaaay!"

"All Mr. Sharpe will need to do is wait till I get to the required height and take some pictures, I can keep it up indefinitely, too."

Janet and Sam dug up a basket as Daniel expertly tied a turban around Jacob's head and he also rooted through his office; emerging triumphantly with a flute shaped artefact.

Jacob lay down and suddenly Selmak emerged, flying through the air.

"How are you, Dad?"

Jacob processed for a few moments. "I'd forgotten how it felt, Sammie, to be all alone. I feel like there's a huge part of me missing." Jacob smiled at Selmak, who was getting toweled off by Janet.

Jacob shooed Sam out of the room and for once she was rather glad not to be around. The thought of her dad stripping...too icky for words!

Jacob took his clothes off and stood with the flute behind the basket.

Sharpe stood poised to shoot rapid photographs.

Selmak with a huge toothy grin began bouncing, starting off small, then gaining in height, higher and higher until he was in front of Jacob's groin.

Sharpe took shot after shot of the grinning, madly bouncing Tok'ra and his host.

"I think that's enough," the photographer called.

Janet and Sam helped Jacob and Selmak to the infirmary so they could recover and rejoin together in peace.

Hammond looked at Jack and Daniel. "Thank Goodness that one is over, there cannot be a more difficult..."

Just then the claxon sounded.

* * *

It was 1100 hours; Chaka had arrived!

Daniel, Jack, Teal'c and Hammond greeted Chaka at the bottom of the ramp.

"Daaaanyel, a' chakkkkka," he growled a greeting at his favourite human.

"A' chakkaa Chaka," replied Daniel, pleased to see that his Unas friend was looking well and prosperous.

Daniel introduced Chaka to George and reacquainted him with Jack and Teal'c.

Jack looked at Chaka with barely concealed animosity. "Hey, how ya doing? Great to smell you again."

Chaka blew a puff of air at Jack, rather insultingly. Jack looked like he wanted to make something of it.

"This is all I need, a pissing contest between an alpha Unas and a flyboy," said Daniel. "Give it up, Jack, you'll lose."

Jack did want to make something of it, but he was also aware that he needed to get into Daniel's good books - There was always a first time for everything.

Hammond led the way to the briefing room. Sharpe, who had been fiddling with his equipment, had such a look of horror on his face when he first saw Chaka, that Teal'c was compelled to go and remonstrate with him before there was an incident.

"Majorsharpe, you will conceal your consternation. Unas are sensitive and take offence easily. Do not betray your emotions."

"I have to get his good side? I'm telling you, there is no good side on that!" Sharpe was gibbering nervously.

"I am convinced that you will exceed your expectations and produce an adequate representation of Chaka. He is most amiable when you have become accustomed to him."

"I want to get this over and done with, as soon as possible."

Sam and Janet entered. The CMO had never seen an Unas before, and she was a little upset with this one in particular; she'd had to treat a very battered and bruised Daniel a couple of years before. No one damaged her favourite archaeologist and got away with it.

The pint sized doctor stalked up to the enormous lizardine figure; even in her highest heels; the ones she kept specifically for dealing with recalcitrant colonels, she barely made it up to the Unas's chest.

"I want a word with you," she said poking his arm.

Chaka turned and looked down with an enquiring expression. "Ta?" he asked Daniel.

Daniel frowned at the doctor. "This is Janet, Chaka."

"Jaaan' ett?"

"Don't you Jaaan'ett me! You ever hurt one of my friends again and you'll have me to deal with."

Chaka seemed to understand what the good doctor was trying to convey. A rather amused expression flashed across his countenance. "Benna Jaaan'ett, ka keka. Ka nay, Chaka ska net Daaaanyel."

Janet and everyone else looked at Daniel for the translation.

"Umm...he said, I surrender Janet. Please do not kill me. Daniel is now my clan member and I vow to preserve his life."

Janet sniffed disparagingly, but looked mollified. "I suppose that will have to do."

"Kel ka neya, Jaaan'ett?" Chaka asked his human friend.

Daniel was bewildered, "Excuse me?"

"Kel ka neya, Jaaan'ett?" Chaka repeated patiently.

Daniel blushed.

"What's he saying?" asked Jack curiously.

"Umm... well he taken quite a shine to Janet and wants to know if he can buy her and how much she is?"

"What!" roared Janet.

"I guess he really likes feisty, Janet."

General Hammond decided to intercede.

"Dr, Jackson could you tell Chaka that we have a policy of not selling USAF staff, unless... I don't suppose he has any Naquada anywhere? We could trade that for the colonel here."

"Very funny, General," retorted Jack. "Belay that, Daniel."

Daniel looked a little mischevious and held a quick conversation with Chaka.

"I'm afraid, Sir, that Chaka knows nothing about Naquada; but he is willing to trade for Jack."

"He is?" gulped Jack.

"Yes! He has half a roasted Goa'uld, umm the butt end. That's about half a day's rations to an Unas. Would that be acceptable?"

"I'm surrounded by comedians." Jack griped. "Daniel, you tell that bug eyed, scaley slimeball that to afford me, he'd need a cave full of Staff weapons and a fleet of Death Gliders."

Chaka snarled something at Daniel.

"Daniel?"

"He said that can be arranged," chuckled the archaeologist, demurely.

"Daniel! Just let's get this over with. Tell him to shuck his clothes and whip out his cock."

Chaka did not need Daniel to translate as he quickly undressed and stood before them in all his muddy brown glory...

"Uh, Jack, Chaka understands quite a lot of English now," explained Daniel to the deafening, appalled silence.

Chaka noticed Janet's and Sam's identically aghast expressions as they stared at his scaley body, with its hard ridges and massive, jutting protuberances. He looked at the two females, then said something to Daniel.

"What did he say?" asked Sam, finding her voice.

Daniel looked a little sheepish. "He said, don't say ka till you've tried him."

"Ewww," said both Janet and Sam in unison, mentally visualising that image.

"I need some detergent to wash that picture out of my mind," moaned Janet weakly.

"And me," agreed a flustered Sam.

"Come on, Carter, no need to play coy, you've been with enough aliens. Personally I'd choose Chaka over nerdy Narim, he gave dishwater a bad name."

"SIR!" Sam was outraged.

"Me too," agreed Janet disloyally.

"JANET!"

"I'm sorry Sam, but even though it physically hurts me I've got to agree with Jack. I'd do the horizontal tango with Nem before I chose Narim...In fact the Linvris looked more appealing after they were dead...and more animated...and..."

"DANIEL!"

"Dr. Jackson, could you ask Chaka what he would like to use as a prop?" George was beginning to feel like a one person United Nations Peace keeping force. He wondered whether his stellar SG team would ever function again post Calendar.

Daniel looked apologetically at Sam, who studiously ignored him. He muttered a few words to Chaka, and then turned to address the group.

"Chaka would like ummm to use a big bar of chocolate," he announced.

"It would have to be huge," replied George, eyeing Chaka's cock dubiously. "Where in the mountain can we get one that big?"

"Is it not a full moon presently?" enquired Teal'c.

"Yes it is, Teal'c," replied Daniel. "As non-sequiters go that's a humdinger."

"Yeah big guy, what's up?"

"I have observed that when the moon is full, doctorFraiser usually has a big bar of chocolate on her desk. Also in her bag...and in her pocket. If you observe closely you will find that the stethoscope around her neck is made out of chocolate also."

Janet blushed as she defiantly took a huge bite from the stethoscope. "Teal'c, I've been keeping that secret for seven years, now you blow it," she garbled.

"Oooh Janet, you have that huge bar in your locker too."

"Okay, okay, I'll go and get it, but I want it back."

"Janet are you certain you want it returned? I mean Chaka is going to pose with it, there may be...touching."

"Honey, it's chocolate!" 

Janet returned with the chocolate and reluctantly handed it over to the Unas. Daniel took it away from him before it melted in Chaka's huge claw like hands.

Sharpe decided a few practice shots might be in order.

Chaka stood tall and proud and gave a toothy snarl.

"Ummm," mused Sharpe.

"What is it, Major?" asked Hammond.

"Would it be possible to ask...Chaka to floss his teeth? They are not exactly pearly white."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at Sharpe in shock.

"Are you insane, Major?" asked an astounded General.

"You're totally whacko, you've lost it. Definitely not the sharpest tool in the box." Jack put his own unique spin on matters.

Daniel's voice was dazed as he sought clarification. "You want me to ask an Alpha Unas to floss his teeth?"

"I believe the correct term is fangs," added Teal'c.

"All the better to eat you with, Sharpe." Jack decided this could be fun. "How would you say that Daniel? Sharpe can ask him."

"I have no idea," replied Daniel, "flossing is not really a cultural necessity for Unas."

Chaka cocked his head on one side as he tried to work out what the umans were saying.

Sharpe wanted to get out of here fast. He was never taking another photograph as long as he lived!

"I do think if you handed over some dental floss, Chaka may get hold of the wrong idea and try to strangle you with it," Daniel mused. "But," he added brightening, "it would be a very interesting experiment."

"NO!...n...no," declared Sharpe hastily, "just an idea I had, not important. Shall we?"

Daniel handed over the chocolate to Chaka, who held it with both hands in front of his muddy brown nakedness as the photographer rapidly took the shots.

"I believe Chaka would make an excellent Mr. October," stated Teal'c.

"October?" questioned Sam.

"For Halloween," answered Daniel chuckling. "Great idea, Teal'c." 

After surveying which bits of the Unas had been in contact with her chocolate, Janet decided to present Chaka with the bar, purely in the interests of interspecies harmony. She told Daniel that he had to tell Chaka clearly that the gift was not the start of a beautiful friendship, thank-you. Daniel gave her a cheeky grin and proceeded to tell Chaka about Janet's generous donation. Chaka let out a whoop of triumph and enfolded Janet in a rib crushing hug.

She emerged, quivering and rather flushed.

"Oh Daniel," she trilled. "Could you also ask Chaka to get dressed?"

Twenty minutes later Chaka was saying farewell to Daniel and the male members of SG-1 at the bottom of the ramp.

"Ka cha Daniel?" Chaka nodded at the stargate.

"No, Chaka, my place is here, but thank-you."

"Hey! He's not suggesting you go with him, is he?" Jack asked belligerently.

"I'm of his clan, Jack. It's his duty to protect me."

Jack snorted disdainfully as he put his arm around Daniel's shoulders and eyed Chaka with malice.

"Tell the overgrown swamp rat that the position is filled. No scaly UnASS is gonna get his clawy mitts on you."

Daniel rolled his eyes and waved distractedly at Chaka, who responded with an aggressive grunt in Jack's direction. He walked up the ramp and disappeared into the wormhole.

* * *

The three teamates were walking toward the exit of the gateroom when the claxon sounded almost immediately.

"Incoming wormhole," intoned Walter. "Master Bratac's IDC code."

Bratac came down the ramp and greeted Teal'c warmly. "Old friend, how good it is to meet with you once again."

Teal'c grasped Bratac's arm, "My friend and mentor, you honour us with your presence as always. Permit me to express our deep gratitude in for your participation of this calendar."

"Not necessary, old friend. I have reached the age of one hundred and thirty nine years and I may have lost my prim'ta but I feel like a young man of ninety. I feel the need to display my hoary, sinewy body to the women of Earth to enchant and electrify them."

"We'll make sure we include a free zat gun with every copy, Bratac. That way they can shoot themselves after seeing your picture, the effect will be the same I imagine." Jack always liked getting one over on the Jaffa master.

"Indubitably, O'Neill. The thrills I shall give will be very similar to electric shock. I am afraid that the females may be tempted to shoot themselves twice with the zaknikitel after seeing your image." But not as much as the Jaffa warrior liked outdoing the Tauri Colonel.

"Where is Hammond of Texas?" Bratac enquired about the commander of the SGC. He had a great respect and admiration for the General. If he'd had one so unruly as O' Neill as a subordinate; he would have invoked the Rite of Kresh'taa.

"He is currently occupied on matters of great consequence," replied Teal'c.

"Yes, someone has ordered the wrong oranges for the commissary." Jack was studiously ignoring Teal'c's glacial glare. "I mean, who in their right mind would want a damn Jaffa?"

Daniel behind Jack was trying very hard to stifle the chokes of laughter that threatened to overwhelm him; Bratac's face was a picture.

"Damn...Jaffa?"

Jack affected the most ludicrously innocent expression.

"Well, they may be sweet and juicy, but they're completely seedless you know," he remarked chattily.

Bratac looked round in bewilderment. "What are?"

"Jaffa Oranges" remarked the irrepressible Jack.

"O Neill," growled Teal'c in warning.

"Have you ever had a Jaffa Cake, Bratac?" 

"Jaffa...cake?"

"Yes, Danny here got addicted to them when he visited Wales; he has them flown over you know."

"Little sponge cakes with an orange jelly and covered in chocolate, mmmm.... they are delicious," remarked Daniel with a dreamy expression.

"What did you say, Daniel? Soft and squishy and easily downed?" Jack's playful tone was totally at odds with the guileless air he projected.

Daniel frowned at Jack repressively. "No, I said they were dark and rich with an unexpected bite and they were no good for dunking."

"Spoilsport," breathed Jack.

"Enough of this jesting." Bratac looked at Jack with disdain. "I am here to pose for images that will help continue our noble endeavour against the false gods. Cease with talk of fruit and bakery produce and direct me to where I will have my likeness taken."

As they entered the briefing room, General Hamond came over to greet Bratac.

"Thank-you for agreeing to participate in this calendar, Bratac."

"My gratitude for sending the nipple ring, Hammond of Texas, it is a very stimulating piece of body adornment."

"N...n...nipple ring?" It was the first George had heard of it.

"Previously I had believed the nipples of the male to be a dysfunctional body part that served no useful purpose. Now with the aid of this jewellery I have discovered hitherto unknown sensations."

George stared open mouthed as Bratac tore open his cloak to proudly reveal his metal adornment. He stared agahst and looked around for help.

"Actually, Bratac, body piercing has been around for about 4000 years on Earth." Daniel nobly stepped into the breach. "It has played an integral role in culture and ritual among many different societies. Throughout history, piercings have been identified with nobility and worn to advertise status, strength, and virility."

"I am most impressed," remarked the Jaffa master. "What other body parts can be punctured?"

"Commonly it is the earlobes, but eyebrows, tongues, nose, lips, nipples as you know, the navel and both male and female genitalia can be pierced."

"You seem to know an awful lot about it, Daniel," remarked Jack suspiciously. "How come?"

"Oh, I've picked it up here and there." Daniel answered blithely. "Some of it is very interesting."

Bratac was curious. "For what purpose apart from decoration would the Tauri masses indulge in such practices?"

"Sexual pleasure," stated Daniel with relish.

"I do not understand. As I have said I find my nipple ring stimulating but not in any...erotic sense."

"Well for example; a person with a stud in their tongue can perform oral sex on their partner and increase their sexual gratification."

"Ewww...TMI Daniel," cried Sam.

"On the contrary," retorted Bratac, as Teal'c nodded in agreement, "I find the reproductive mores of the Tauri most interesting. To the Jaffa it is a mundane business; but for you humans it is the basis of your whole culture. I am in awe that such primitive beings can turn a mere physical act into the epitome of glorification and self-indulgence. If you ever thought of anything but your own pleasure, you humans would advance much more rapidly. Please go on, Dr Jackson, you are most informative."

"Most informed, you mean," interrupted Jack sourly. "In fact very well informed. I forgot how you said you picked up this stuff."

"That's because I didn't say, Jack," he informed the Colonel impishly. Daniel looked at a dazed Hammond for permission to continue; George nodded reluctantly, he considered himself a man of the world, in fact a man of several worlds but...Yuck! sprang to mind.

Daniel instinctively went into 'lecture' mode as he enthusiastically delivered information to the attentive Bratac. He talked even faster than normal, his hands flying about to emphasize several points and his lively, mobile face sparkled with animation. No one in the room could or wanted to take their eyes from him.

"A man can have his penis pierced, usually with a ring in the head or down the shaft. It induces a more intense orgasm during sexual intercourse...um...apparently. Not just for him but for his partner too. The same is true for female genitalia, which by their very nature can be pierced in several different places, including the La..."

George interrupted quickly, alarmed at what he might be forced to learn. "I think that's probably enough now. Thank-you, Dr Jackson." 

Daniel decided he'd die of shock if he were ever allowed to complete a lecture!

Bratac sidled up to Daniel. "I would be most interested to hear more on the subject, Dr. Jackson, when you have time."

"Of course, we can go in my lab and I can show you some examples..."

"EXAMPLES?" repeated Jack sharply.

Daniel looked at Jack with disdain, "...on my PC," he continued smoothly to Bratac as Jack subsided with ill grace.

Bratac's good humour had been restored; so much so that when Janet asked how he would like to pose, he asked if he might be allowed to use Jaffa Oranges from the commissary. Sharpe once again set up the camera equipment and lights in the Briefing room as Sam and Janet went to purloin all the citrus fruits they could find. 

Teal'c assisted Bratac to remove the robes from his sinewy, hoary body. When he was naked apart from his shiny skull-cap, he was handed a precariously heaped basket of oranges, that he gingerly held in front of him as the photographs were taken.

"I am getting some bad reflection from your cap, Mr. Bratac," said Sharpe politely. "Would it be possible for you to remove it?"

Everyone held their breath, but the Jaffa master was in jovial mood and agreed. "I feel the necessity of being completely unclothed, it has been many long years since I felt so many eyes appreciate the beauty of my body."

Everyone, even Teal'c, avoided each others eyes. Jack was the model of restraint and only murmured a very slightly sceptical, "okaaay."

Bratac reached up and tugged at his skull cap, eventually peeling it away to reveal a head of beautifully symmetrical corn rows; Janet and Sam were amazed at the difference they made in Bratac's appearance and said they made him look fifty years younger. 

The Jaffa leader preened at such praise. "Like a young man of a hundred years would you say?"

The two female Majors emphatically agreed.

Bratac smiled gleefully and stood ramrod straight and proud as Sharpe completed the photo session.

"Mr. Bratac, have you any preference for which month you'd like to be?" Sam asked cheerfully.

"One of your young months." He had a low voiced discussion with Teal'c. "Yes, March would be most pleasant."

"Mr. March you shall be." Bratac bowed his head in thanks as he dressed. Once this was done, Teal'c led him away so they could plan how well a Jaffa calendar would go down on Chulack.

* * *

It was nearing the end of two grueling days for Major Sharpe; taking eleven sets of photographs had been harder work than the three-week assault course refresher training he had undertaken last year. He was nearly home free except his last model was Dr. Daniel Jackson; Sharpe had dealt with aliens beyond his wildest imaginings over the past hours, but he had an inkling his greatest challenge still lay before him.

Daniel stood apart in the unusually silent briefing room; his arms folded across his chest trying to appear oblivious of the two pairs of blue and three pairs of brown eyes that were currently staring at him anxiously. 

"Okay," he addressed the onlookers with determination. "If I'm doing this, I'm doing it on my terms."

"Of course, Dr Jackson."

"No problemo, Danny-boy."

"You can do it, Daniel."

"Tell us what you want, son."

"Leave it to us, Daniel."

Daniel rolled his eyes as his friends and colleagues fell over themselves to aid in his transformation from geeky academic to nearly nude calendar pin-up.

"I want to do the session in my office...and with only Major Sharpe present. No one else." He stated with flat finality as he directed a hard look at Jack.

"But, as your honorary big sister, I should be there," Sam pleaded.

"As the base commander, I feel it is my duty to stand by any of my men in their hour of need," interjected George.

Janet was using her best persuasive 'medical doctors know best' tone, "Daniel, you have nothing I have not seen before and I definitely would not pass up another opportunity to see it again."

"Huh?" Daniel was perplexed, "um...could you run that past me again?"

Jack was the only one who remained quiet; he just stared assessingly at his civilian as Sharpe exited to set up his equipment in the cramped confines of Daniel's office.

"If that's what Daniel wants," he added softly, "then I think we should let him be."

Just then, Paul Davis burst into the briefing Room. "Dr Jackson! I stand ready to assist you in your hour of need."

"Look here, Davis. If anyone gets to...assist Daniel, it will be me. Capiche?" The look the Colonel gave the green eyed major would have given any sane man pause for thought...unfortunately Major Davis was slightly off kilter at the prospect of an au naturel archaeologist.

"I believe Daniel requires someone to bolster his ego and I feel I'm just the man."

Jack narrowed his eyes in a gesture that had power hungry aliens all over the universe trembling in their sarcophagi. 

"I think you'll find, buddy..." Daniel winced; Jack always reserved his friendliest terms for someone he was about to smear across the floor. "...that DR. JACKSON needs no ego bolstering from anyone, especially some desk hopping, Pentagon pen pusher with a washing up fetish who wears more eye liner than...CARTER?"

Sam had been listening open mouthed to this tirade.

"Yes, Sir?" she gulped.

"Have you any romantic interest in Major Davis?"

"R...ro...rom...Major Davis?" she squeaked. "No, Sir!" 

"Good, because he makes namby pamby Narim and oily Orlin look like Arnold Schwarzenegger. If you ever consider dating him, I order you to report to Dr. Mackenzie immediately. Is that understood?"

"Y...y...yes Sir." Sam was stuttering. It was not her fault she fell for weak, wishy-washy alien types; her last human boyfriend had become a sun crazed megalomaniac and there was only room for one self absorbed, narcissistic person in any of her relationships and the position was already filled.

"Ahh...um...if I may be permitted to speak for myself," interpolated Daniel as he directed a frown at Jack and a warm look at the hapless Paul Davis. "Thank-you for your very kind offer, but I need no assistance." Observing the Major's crestfallen expression he added gently, "I am not comfortable with nudity and need to have as few people there as possible, I hope you understand."

Major Davis could not resist the appeal or the sincerity shining from huge defenceless blue eyes, and he nodded emphatically.

"Of course Dan...um Dr Jackson, anything you want."

Daniel smiled shyly at the besotted Major, causing Colonel O'Neill to groan in disbelief: Was it not enough that Daniel had extraterrestrial transcendental stalkers...um...stalking him all over the unknown universe without Pentagon liaison officers wanting an extra-liaison relationship?

Janet decided she needed to dampen down the seething, sexually charged atmosphere that was being generated by an alpha Colonel, a hapless Major and an obliviously alluring archaeologist. It was a good thing that General Hammond was a little punch drunk from the last couple of days and had gone to recuperate in his office with some of Twinkies that Thor had overlooked, or else there was no way he would miss the palpable tension in the air. 'Really' she thought ruefully; it was rather an unequal contest; like watching a sleek, black panther take on a fluffy kitten about whose turn it was to snuggle in Daniel's lap.

"Daniel," she called. "What would you like to use as a covering?"

"I've not really thought about it," he replied, lying. In truth he'd thought of nothing else.

"Well," said Janet briskly, "it needs to be something...substantial."

"Janet?" Had Sam heard right? "Did you say substantial?"

The petite doctor flushed in mortification and looked an apology at her favourite civilian. She risked a quick peek at Colonel O'Neill who was looking daggers at her...yikes! If looks could kill she would be six foot under by now.

"Y...y...yes substantial," she confirmed. "We need Daniel to be as relaxed as possible and he's more...modest than most of the other models, so a more abundant covering is required."

Sam was dimly aware that she was missing something but could not fathom out what it could be. She'd leave it ...for now.

Janet let out a breath of relief as Daniel cast her a grateful look and the Colonel looked slightly less murderous. She distracted herself by wondering what looking a tad less than murderous might be?

Ruthless?

Savage?

Neither of those seemed right. Janet resolved to ask Daniel when the Colonel was not in the vicinity, although she was not sure that would happen soon.

"I can't think of anything," confessed Daniel miserably, shaking Janet out of her reverie.

"There must be lots of things," soothed the CMO. "We'll think of something."

"What about one of your Boonies?" suggested Sam helpfully.

"Too small," replied Janet.

"Okay...I know! A Canopic Jar?"

"I think that might not be big enough, Carter." Jack broke his uncharacteristically long silence.

Sam was thinking furiously, "I've got it! Your copy of Budge; a perfect use for it at last."

"Umm...that's a good idea, Sam, but it's not really a large tome."

Jack waggled his eyebrows at the disapproving Daniel, "It does have a very hard cover though Danny-boy, perfect for your lurking lexicon, screening your scrolls or cloaking your codex." 

Patience was not one of Sam's virtues.

"C'mon, Daniel I'm all for exaggeration, but are you really saying Budge is not big enough to cover your...assets?"

"Carter!" growled Jack warningly as Daniel went red and crossed his arms over his body; he wanted to look at his feet; but that was no longer really possible. He huffed and looked up...to find four pairs of eyes trained on the crotch of his BDU's. 

"Oh my," incredulous wonder made Sam's voice go up a notch or five. "Are you saying? Daniel? But I've seen him naked....in Hathor's fake SGC; I mean I noticed...it was a pretty large meal deal alright but not exactly super-sized."

"Let's just say lots of stuff has happened to Daniel since then and leave it at that." Jack drummed his fingers on the table, but it was no good...he just had to know. 

"Do you always compare the men in your life to fast food, Carter?"

Unfortunately Sam was getting completely carried away by her imagination and so was her mouth.

"Oh yes, Sir! I've always thought of you as a Happy Meal; flashy package, a toy that keeps you amused for a few minutes, but the nutritional value is not that great and you are ultimately left unsatisfied. I've had one or two that made it to a medium meal, but never a whiff of a full meal deal with king-size shake on the side...not even close."

She suddenly remembered a missed opportunity. 

"Dammit, Daniel, If only I'd realised you were packing a Naquadah Reactor instead of a Duracell in your pa...um robes, there would have been definitely something between us in that tent on Vis Uban and I would have had you on a continuous feedback loop! In fact I would be..."

Sam trailed off as she noticed Janet gawping at her as if she'd grown two heads. 'Damn,' she thought, 'that would be really inconvenient at the moment.' Sam slowly surveyed the other occupants in the room. Daniel was refusing to meet her gaze; Paul Davis was staring at Daniel with a glazed look in his eyes and licking in his lips in a manner that strongly reminded her of Sylvester sizing up Tweetie Pie and the Colonel's face was an interesting shade of violet. She mentally reviewed what she had said. 

'Oooooops,' she thought. 

Jack's tone was glacial. "I really think, Carter..." The sarcasm dripping off these words was palpable,"...that you and I shall have a little chat, say 0900 hours tomorrow, in my office."

'Phew'...Sam could live with that! Unfortunately for her the Colonel was definitely a small fries short of a Happy Meal.

"I believe SG-3 require some basic understanding of Quantum Physics and I would like you to tutor them to a proficient standard."

Sam felt abject horror wash over her as she contemplated teaching Wormholes 101 to testosterone fuelled Jarheads.

"When you have made a success of that, we also could consider Daniel's comrades in the archaeological department; I'm sure they'll be fascinated by astrophysics too."

Sam opened her mouth to protest, but closed it with an audible snap when she caught sight of Janet shaking her head and drawing her hand across her throat in an unmistakable 'you're dead' gesture. Sam decided retreat was the better part of valour.

"Oh, and Carter?" Jack sing-songed, "I will want detailed reports of what exactly happened in that tent."

Janet sidled up to her best friend and murmured with smug provocation, "Thank goodness you can plead the Fifth, hey Sam."

"Oh God...this is all your fault." Sam glared at the mischievous medical Major.

"Well I like that!" Janet hissed. "We were doing fine till you mentioned your penchant for Whoppers."

Sam had nothing to say to that. She addressed the Colonel who was hovering solicitously by Daniel's side while simultaneously casting death stares at the fidgeting Paul Davis. Daniel was still refusing to meet her eyes.

"Sir, I...think I will go and see if Major Sharpe has everything he needs." 

An Aloe Vera slicked Walter slithered through the door as Sam ran from the room faster than she had hotfooted it from the fires of Netu.

"Colonel O'Neill, the Pentagon has requested that we send back their missing Major."

"Missing Major?" repeated Jack, glancing sharply at a sheepish Paul Davis. "Just how long has he been AWOL?" he asked Walter.

"Apparently he should have reported back this morning."

"Someone's been a naughty boy," carolled Jack, gleefully. "With a bit of luck you'll only be chained to your desk for a couple of years before they let you out again."

"Jack!" a soft, reproachful voice chastised him. "Paul, I really think you should get back. Jack..." he directed a stern look at his friend, "...will cover for you. Thank-you for your help." Daniel gently ushered Major Davis from the Briefing Room.

"And then there were three," quipped the irrepressible Jack, as Walter returned to his customary post.

"We still need to think of a suitable prop for Daniel." Janet reminded the Colonel briskly.

"Any fig leaves lying around? Big ones?"

"Bite me, Jack."

Jack looked suddenly transfixed; he looked so comical that Janet reckoned if he had been a cartoon he would have had an animated light bulb shining above his head.

"Jack?" enquired a perplexed Daniel.

"I've thought of just the thing for you to use. You go to your office; have Sharpe take a few practice shots and I'll be along in two rattles of a snake's tail." Seeing Daniel's mutinous expression Jack practically manhandled him out of the room. "Forcryingoutloud, keep your boxers on, till I get there." At the Colonel's unmistakable signal, Janet plastered herself at Daniel's side to efficiently steer his course through the grey corridors.

Jack sat down at the table and picked up the phone.

"Supplies? Colonel O'Neill," he waited impatiently for an acknowledgement.

"I want a large piece of white cardboard and a thick magic marker double timed up to the briefing room, ASAP!...No, how the hell should I know? Just send me the biggest piece you have. Thank-you."

Five minutes later an SF arrived bearing the required items. Jack sat down at the table, pulled the lid from the pen and thought hard; he had a habit of sticking out his tongue when concentrating and had come close to having it shot off once or twice. He then set to work, swirling the pen over the pristine card in his best handwriting. When he had finished, he sat back in his chair and admired his handiwork.

He picked up the card and hurried to Daniel's office; as he approached he could see Carter and the Doc with their ears practically plastered to the door. They both straightened up smartly as they caught sight of the Colonel striding down the corridor.

"What's going on?" he asked curiously.

Sam and Janet looked at each other; their bland faces were a dead give away. Predictably it was Janet who answered. "Daniel would not let us stay," she grouched, "but it certainly sounds like he and Major Sharpe have hit it off though." 

Jack unashamedly leant in close to listen in on the conversation between the two men. He could hear Sharpe virtually shouting with unreserved enthusiasm; Jack was surprised, Sharpe had hardly been the life and soul of the SGC in the past couple of days. He pressed closer to the hindering door.

"Ohh...Ohhhh...Ohhhhhhh." Sharpe was moaning...loudly and ecstatically; Jack felt something tickle in his toes.

"Oh. My. God!" cried Sharpe. "I've never seen one like it and I've seen lots, photographed some of them too."

The tickle segued into a fiery trail that was shooting up Jack's legs.

"It's so pronounced..." Jack was oblivious to everything except Sharpe's voice and the cramps low in his belly. "....so plump and juicy. It cannot possible be natural. It must be surgically enhanced."

Jack's heart was clenched in a tight grip; he was having difficulty breathing. Sam and Janet watched fascinated as a tide of red swept up the Colonel's throat and suffused the tanned planes of his face, which slowly turned a vibrant shade of violet.

"I've never, ever seen one so big...it's huge! Please, you have to let me touch it up."

By this time Jack's eyes were bulging from their sockets and his hands were groping for his P-90, which, rather irritatingly, was still in the armoury.

"Oooh yes, baby, work it...work it for me. Yes. Yes Yes." You did not have to be particularly near the door to hear the orgasmic sounds of bliss emanating from the photographer.

"You two stay here," Jack ordered Sam and Janet, thrusting his sign at them. He took a step back and with one massive kick, he booted the door off its hinges. 

"Sir!" Janet ducked to escape the flying splinters. "It wasn't even locked."

"JACK!" What the hell are you doing?" shouted Daniel, as Sharpe ineffectually tried to hide behind his tripod.

"I'm gonna kill him," raged the Colonel. Daniel leapt in front of Sharpe and put a hand on Jack's chest to hold him off.

Jack blinked at the resolute Daniel in surprise and then his special op observation skills kicked in.

"You're dressed," he said stupidly.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Well yuh huh. What is going on?"

Jack surveyed the wreckage that was once the door. "It's just that Sharpe was talking about touching something huge," he gibbered, "and he sounded like he was having a good time so..."

"Jack," Daniel's lilting tone was gentle. "Did you burst in here to defend my honour?"

"Don't be ridiculous Daniel." Jack was feeling foolish and this manifested itself usually in belligerence. "I thought he was abusing government property."

Daniel however was wise to this little ploy of Jack's. "He was talking about my...pout."

Jack was stupefied. "Your POUT?" 

Daniel nodded, rare fun sparkling through his blue eyes. "Apparently the sullen, moody look is in vogue."

"Your pout," repeated Jack abashed, sending an 'I may let you live, but it's a close thing' glare at the trembling photographer. "I thought...well, I thought...."

"Yes, I think we know what you thought and talking about abuse of government property." Daniel looked pointedly at the hole in his office. "Aren't the doors meant to be bomb proof?"

Jack modestly shrugged his shoulders. "Motivated I guess."

"Well, you can organise a replacement immediately, cos I'm not posing almost naked in here when anyone can walk past and see."

"I'm on it," Jack promised and picked up the phone.

Thirty minutes later the office had a new door and Jack was gloomily attempting some creative writing otherwise known as filling in a requisitions form. Daniel was being molested by Sam and Janet, who were helping him remove some of his clothes and preparing him for his modeling debut by applying some make up.

"Mmmmm," Jack mused, "reason for requisition," he scribbled something - "Door fell of its hinges due to natural wear and tear." Jack ignored Daniel's gasp of outrage, reasoning it probably had more to do with the way Janet was ripping off his Tee. Sam was meanwhile exclaiming over Daniel's perfect skin, his perfect eyelashes that apparently needed no enhancement, his perfect lips and oh... his perfect ears and perfect bone structure. It's a good thing she can't see his dick, thought Jack sourly, she'd drop on the spot. It was enough to give regular guys a complex.

Sharpe had stood unobtrusively in a corner away from the psychotic Colonel who seemed calm at the moment but he was not taking any risks. Everyone at the SGC seemed a bit...whacko, even Dr. Jackson. Sharpe vowed never to go through that big ring thing if this is what happened.

Daniel was pale but resolute. "I think I would like to get this over with now," he said, with the kind of stoic courage that he normally showed off world when saving a planet from destruction or some such thing.

"Right, everyone out," ordered Jack.

"But, Sir," asked Janet. "What about Daniel's prop?"

"Oh yes, I almost forgot." Jack rescued the piece of card and with a flourish, handed it to Daniel. He noticed Sam and Janet were staring avidly so he shooed them out of the office slamming the new door in their frustrated faces.

As Jack approached the silently reading archaeologist, Daniel looked up and gazed at Jack, his blue eyes shimmering with the sheen of moisture.

"Well, ya know," Jack shrugged awkwardly. "Some stuff just sticks, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck in a self-deprecating manner.

"Thank-you Jack," replied Daniel tremulously.

"Right...um, right," Jack's gaze skittered everywhere but at Daniel; he picked up an artefact and put it down again, then he picked it up, turned it upside down and then put it down again.

"I'm gonna go. I'll be right outside if..." he trailed off and directed a menacing look at Sharpe before making for the door.

"Jack." It was a softly spoken benediction.

The silver haired man turned around.

"Daniel?"

"I can't, Jack."

"Hey, Danny, none of this," he chided. 

"You take the photos, Jack - please."

"ME?"

"Yes. Please, Jack don't make me beg." Noticing the crestfallen Sharpe, Daniel hastened to reassure him. "It's nothing to do with you, but I'm just not comfortable. It has to be Jack."

"Danny, I'm no good with a camera."

"Well, it's no different than a gun, you look, you aim, you shoot. You have plenty of practice at that! Please, Jack."

Jack could not resist the appeal in his best friends eyes. "Well, okay then, but don't blame me if you come out looking like Chaka's uglier older brother."

"Thank-you," smiled Daniel, but it was his eyes that showed the depth of his gratitude.

"Sharpe, come and show me how this stuff works." The major complied...reluctantly.

After ten minutes of intensive training, Major Sharpe had feared for his life at least three times from the irascible Colonel who took instructions with the same grace he took a gun-toting alien. Jack dismissed the photographer, who had never been so grateful to exit a room in his life.

"Alone at last," leered Jack, twisting an imaginary moustache comically, as he locked the door after Sharpe.

"Thanks, Jack," repeated Daniel softly, his eyes seemingly luminous in the bright lights of the camera equipment.

"De nada." Jack was anything but casual, but he still could not look at the man in front of him.

"Gratias ago Oma, per Amicus meus." Daniel murmured without glancing at the card; he had memorised it instantly.

"Sappy I guess," quipped Jack.

"Sweet."

Daniel got up from the table, pushed aside the equipment and grabbed Jack by the lapels. Yanking him forward, he planted a hard, intoxicating kiss on the warm, mobile lips.

"You'd better not want me just 'cos I've got a big dick."

"Wellll..." Jack grinned unrepentantly at his seething archaeologist. "It's a bonus," he added happily, doing some yanking of his own.

"Mmm if I'd known modeling was this much fun..."

"Daniel, shut up. Kissing now. Save your breath for later. I don't want to boast, but you're gonna need it."

"Bring it on, flyboy." 

The three majors on the outside of the office were wondering what was taking so long.

Janet had her ear to the new door. "Damn thing must be sound-proofed. I can't hear a thing."

"The Colonel can fire 900 rounds a minute with his P-90. Just how many pictures is he taking of Daniel anyway?" Sam wanted to be in the thick of the action.

"Wait a sec, I think I hear Daniel groaning. The Colonel must be being thorough."

"Damn," sighed Sam in exasperation. "Poor Daniel will be flat out. You know how slam-bang the Colonel can get when the mood takes him. He'll be doing everything blow-by-blow and by the book."

"Now, Sam, when have you ever known Daniel take the Colonel's histrionics lying down? He can stand up for himself."

Suddenly a huge crash sounded from within Daniel's office; you did not need to be close to the door to hear the cursing and imprecations being shouted at full volume. Sharpe backed off.

The new door was unlocked and flung open by a red faced, seriously pissed Colonel. Peeking behind him Sam and Janet could see a flushed, disheveled, near naked Daniel, gingerly clutching the card in front of him and gaping at a pile of debris on the floor.

"Carter! Go and get me another requisitions form." He looked behind him. "Several requisitions forms."

Janet eyed the livid man warily, "Ummm, have you finished Daniel, Sir?"

"No!" growled Jack testily, "not even close."

"Ummm what was that?" Janet pointed at the pile of fragments on the floor.

"That was archaeology-boy's desk. I think he has woodworm."

"Sir, he can't have woodworm, everything's made of metal."

Jack looked like he wanted to make something of it but he contented himself with pacing off his frustrations up and down the corridor, not noticing that a grey faced Sharpe was doing a good impression of a chameleon by lurking in a shadowy alcove of the grey wall.

Janet stepped over the threshold to survey the damage at close quarters; Daniel blushed and turned away. Her medical training was instantly on full alert.

"Are you okay, Daniel?"

"Umm yes, Janet. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you have the imprint of some kinda writing across your butt!"

Daniel forgot his embarrassment and twisting round caught sight of cuneiform embedded in the soft flesh of his cheeks. Shit! He must have been lying on that tablet SG-5 brought back from P3X 622. He immediately began searching among the smashed remains of his desk; if it was broken he would never forgive himself.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Janet proffered the tablet with a sly wink. Any day she saw a naked Daniel Jackson was a good day in her book and it was a very rare occurrence when said nakedness occurred outside the infirmary. Poor Sam got to run errands like a good soldier-girl, whereas she got to survey that bare-skinned, buff body at her leisure. Sometimes life was...peachy. She looked again at the evidence, definitely...peachy.

Daniel distractedly dropped the card and anxiously inspected the precious artefact for spoilage. Janet decided some inspecting of her own was in order, you could not be too careful with priceless, irreplaceable assets. Was it her imagination but did it seem...perkier than usual? She guessed that archaeology really did it for Daniel. The way he was lovingly stroking the tablet, ensuring that it was in pristine order had her wishing she could let her fingers do the talking too.

Jack burst back into the office, coming to a dead halt the sight of Daniel's unconcealed weapon.

"For crying out loud, cover yourself up. I have a cleaning detail coming to sort out this mess and you know what damn gossips they are."

Daniel pouted sullenly at Jack. "This," he gestured at the wreckage, "was not entirely my fault you know."

"I never said it was! Daniel focus! You need to get dressed."

Daniel sniffed haughtily; that was so not what Jack had been whispering five minutes before. 'Huh' thought Daniel, aware of the very interested audience, 'someone will not be getting in my pants again anytime soon.' Not that he had pants on, but he knew what he meant.

Jack watched fascinated as Daniel hastily threw on his clothes, correctly interpreting the pissy expression on his not quite lover's face. He'd better pencil some make-up sex into today's busy schedule or else he would be whistlin' Dixie for some time to come. 

The sound of booted feet echoed down the stark corridor. Six burly SF's soon crowded into the cramped office. 

"Dr Jackson's clean up squad as ordered Colonel," boomed the deep baritone of their Sergeant.

Jack turned to Daniel. "You have you own clean up squad?" he asked incredulously.

Daniel shrugged, nonchalantly.

The Sergeant was shocked. "Dr. Jackson has a clean up team on standby 24-7, Sir. All trained in handling delicate artefacts and full coffee filters. Don't you worry, Doc, we'll have this ship shape in no time at all. Just leave it to us."

Twenty minutes later, Daniel had a tidy office but no desk. Jack was completing the requisitions forms. "Mmm," he mused, "desk, PC, keyboard, pen holder, six, count 'em - six coffee mugs with varying degrees of green furry stuff in them that the Biological Warfare department are struggling to identify, destroyed chocolate stash that probably by itself caused the desk to buckle and a new frame for the photo of a dirty, sandy coloured creature...with a camel. Anything we could have forgotten?" he added sarcastically. "We may have to do another calendar just to replace all the stuff destroyed in your office, Daniel."

Daniel heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Jack, don't be an even bigger ass than usual."

"How many photos did you manage to take, Sir?"

Jack and Daniel gaped at each other.

"None, Carter."

"NONE!" she squeaked, "but...but...you were ages."

Daniel blushed comprehensively. "Jack was...was...he was..."

"I was building up to it. I was easing Daniel into the process, to make it less traumatic for him."

Sam was amazed at the Colonel's sensitivity. "Wow, Sir. I just thought a quick click of the shutter and it would be all over."

"No Carter, I may be a novice but one thing I know. To achieve the best results, it's better to have the subject completely relaxed before shooting begins. I was also having problems working the zoom - damn thing had a mind of it's own."

Daniel choked abruptly and glared at Jack who grinned cheekily. "C'mon Daniel, let's get these pictures done so we can relax some more."

Ordering everyone else from the office, Jack took one final check of the camera equipment as Daniel stripped once more. Satisfied, Jack strode up to Daniel and planted a swift hard kiss on his lips. "That's all ya getting till these photos are in the bag." Jack turned around and prepared to march away before his libido made a liar of him.

Daniel smacked Jack's ass - hard, with his hand. "Shake your tail, flyboy," he cocked a sultry eyebrow at Jack who was rubbing his sore butt. "Sooner you shoot, the sooner you'll finish."

Jack was still laughing as he began taking the first photos of his best friend and soon to be lover. Daniel completely relaxed as Jack kept him in a ripple of amusement and he soon forgot about the intrusive camera equipment and focused on Jack instead, allowing the feelings he had kept hidden even from himself, to shine from his dancing, delighted eyes. Stood there, in the cramped confines of his desk free office, naked except for a card with Ancient writing on it, Daniel gave full vent to the hidden mischievous, joyful and downright naughty side of his nature. Teasing Jack with glimpses of his huge...pout, he was disconcerted to see Jack had one too. Wow, sulky WAS really sexy.

"Enough with the photos already!" Daniel growled as he looked up expectantly at Jack, who did not disappoint. He launched himself at his laughing lover so fast, that even the Prometheus would have been hard pressed to beat him.

Daniel was rocked back on his heels as Jack slammed into him, doing his best to climb into the younger, smoother skin with him. Daniel pulled his mouth away from the one devouring his.

"Why..." he panted, "...am I always undressed when we do this?"

"Woof," answered Jack happily.

"Woof?" Daniel blinked at Jack in confusion.

"And Yum!"

"Yum?"

"Yum," corroborated Jack, as his mouth latched onto Daniel's once again and he began to back him against the wall.

"Should we not get the film to Major Sharpe?" Daniel asked as Jack began fumbling with his own BDU's.

"I'm trying to achieve a double exposure here. Can we forget about Sharpe? Patience is a virtue ya know."

"You wanna be virtuous?" Daniel fluttered his eyes at the susceptible Colonel.

"Hell, no!"

* * *

Epilogue

Lieutenant Mary Brewer was working late, yet feeling no pain, even as she surveyed the huge piles of brown packages spilling from every available surface in the SGC post room. She was tapping addresses into her PC to print onto labels for the parcels. Every now and again she would sneak a look at the glossy picture that was attached to the wall beside her desk. It may be a gloomy October evening in reality, but in her fantasies it was a lovely summer day and she was on a beach somewhere with Mr. July. A secluded beach. At a push she could imagine being there with Mr. November too, but she had always been a summery kind of gal.

Mary had always had a thing for Mr. July. From the very first day she had started working at the mountain she had noticed him. His bright blue eyes had twinkled sexily at her as she delivered the post, and he always had a kind word or a sweet smile of thanks for her. Sometimes she would catch sight of him in the commissary and she would do her best not to stare; he would look up from his plate and catch her eye and she could tell he was trying to work out who she was. One of the countless Air Force personnel he must see on a daily basis, she thought gloomily. If only he could see Mary as a woman and not as a nameless, faceless colleague. Trouble was now he was a published model, everyone would want him, a post room clerk was hardly going to get a look in.

At the moment she was the most popular person in the SGC, everyone wanted to get their hands on the Air Force Hunks Calendar before it hit the shops and apart from a select few, she was the only one that who had seen it. Bribes were pouring in from every corner of the mountain from personnel hoping to be the first to receive theirs. Lieutenant Brewer had heard that a few bootleg copies were changing hands for phenomenal amounts of money. They had not come from the post room, she had assigned staff she knew she could trust and all the copies were going to be sent out in strict alphabetical order.

She double-checked the address she was about to type from the list given to her by General Hammond. 

Thor - High Commander of the Asgard Fleet

C/O The Daniel Jackson,

Somewhere in the Universe.

Wow! That narrowed it down. She did not dare calculate the postage for that package; fortunately she was to send it to Colonel O'Neill to deal with, along with several others that had off world addresses. Mary was just about to begin printing some labels when her office door was flung open. She assumed a menacing expression, which faded rapidly when she saw that it was Major Ferretti and not another supplicant pleading for a glimpse of the calendar.

She stood as the senior officer approached.

"Major."

"Lieutenant. Please continue what you were doing." 

Ferretti was popular among the lower ranks, but recently he had been on a bit of a tear; Mary had heard rumours that it was to do with the outcome of a wager about the calendar. According to her friend, Jenny in supplies, one person had scooped the entire pot and the Major was...pissed at the outcome. There had been dark mutterings of inside knowledge and large stacked decks, but Major Ferretti had paid up, albeit with unconcealed bad grace. 

Mary sat down and looked up enquiringly at Major Ferretti who was staring avidly at the calendar pinned to the wall.

"Oooooh someone likes Mr. July," he said teasingly observing the blushing Lieutenant.

"It's an excellent photograph," she mumbled defensively.

"If you like foliage," Ferretti gave her a roguish grin that she could not help responding too.

"How can I help you, Sir?" she asked diffidently.

"Well, actually," he whispered conspiratorially, "it's how I can help you."

Mary was startled. "Sir?"

"General Hammond believes you require help," Ferretti held out his hand as Mary moved to protest. "Yes, we know you can cope, admirably, but posting this calendar is a massive job, therefore the General has assigned you an extra member of staff temporarily."

Mary digested the news thoughtfully.

"Under your command, naturally," continued Ferretti smoothly. 

"Very well, Major Ferretti, more help would be most welcome."

"Excellent, the Sergeant will be re-assigned tomorrow."

"Sergeant?"

Ferretti clapped his hand to his head in mock dismay, "Honestly, I'd forget my head if it was not screwed on! Sergeant Walter Harriman is your man." Noticing Mary's look of stupefication, Ferretti grinned, "looks like you get Mr. July up close and personal for a while, Lieutenant." Mary could only nod in flabbergasted disbelief.

Ferretti turned to leave, but stopped and turned back, an engaging smile playing across his mobile face. "Oh, and Mary? I've heard the Sergeant is most partial to Jelly Doughnuts and the scent of Jasmine." 

"T...T...Thank-you, Sir," she replied breathlessly to Ferretti's back as he left the post room. She quickly made a decision; she would go and do some shopping. Perfume, some new make-up, maybe she could squeeze a late appointment at a hair salon, too. Cakes Galore and More over on Academy opened shockingly early, so she could pick up doughnuts on the way to the mountain in the morning. Leaping to her feet, she logged out of her PC, turned out the lights and locked up.

It was after midnight in the dark, silent Post Room. A dazzling, luminous light crept down the wall, its incandescent tendrils causing the room to glow with a brilliant white radiance. Oma gave a self-satisfied, un-motherlike smile as she picked up a calendar and surveyed her handiwork in detail; it was just as well she could see through the card that Daniel held. Thank goodness she had not offered ascension to Jack O'Neill, imagine the mayhem he would have caused amongst the Ancients. Maybe dear Daniel would calm him down, although she very much doubted it. Even she could not work that miracle. 

Oma decided she would purloin some of the calendars and distribute them amongst some of The Others. They could not fail to be impressed by her expertise and therefore cut her some slack. She looked again at the roguish photograph of Jack O'Neill and chuckled to herself as she remembered something the monk at Kheb had once told her: -

The most ancient, cantankerous pike may be caught if the man with the longest rod offers the right bait.

Finis


End file.
